Josh Amidon

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Josh Amidon I make spices people put on everything. I host comedy-trivia that draws a crowd. I tell stories people stick around for. I’ll wait.

This page is everything - plus my life after the restaurant. Name another spice-selling trivia/comedy host.

The other day, I went to the grocery store on a very important mission. Root b**r flavored sparkling water.I've been cra...
10/14/2026

The other day, I went to the grocery store on a very important mission. Root b**r flavored sparkling water.

I've been craving the stuff since I ran out last week. My grocery store stocks it whenever the planets align or someone in corporate decides my store is worthy. Otherwise, it's sold out or shipped off to a busier store where the more important people apparently live.

So imagine my absolute joy when I turned down the seltzer aisle and spotted it. One lonely 12 pack.

I could practically hear the angels singing. I started walking toward it. Six feet away, five feet away, four feet - victory was imminent. And then, from the other end of the aisle, a woman in her early-to-mid 40s shouted:

"HEY! YOUR SPICES SUCK! I FOUND BUGS IN MINE!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. I gay-gasped and clutched my imaginary pearls so dramatically that, for a brief moment, I genuinely believed I was a Victorian widow collapsing onto her chaise lounge after receiving news that her husband had perished at sea.

Bugs in my spices!?!? My reputation! My livelihood!

And in that fraction of a second, while I was busy mentally filing for bankruptcy and preparing to spend the rest of my life living under a bridge, the woman sprinted past me. Straight to the root b**r sparkling water - she took the last 12 pack.

I stood there, still clutching my neckline, watching this woman load my carbonated happiness into her shopping cart. She turned around with a nervous smile and she started talking…fast:

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I LOVE your spices! There weren't any bugs! I made that up! I just needed to distract you so I could get the root b**r!"

"I have a teenage son who turns into a little b***h if I don't bring this home, and normally I just ignore his whining, but I have a migraine today and had a horrible day with a d!ck boss. I just want to go home and drink a glass of w**e without hearing him cry about it.”

I just stared at her. This woman had looked me dead in the eyes, assessed my vulnerabilities and correctly determined that the fastest way to take me out was to threaten the reputation of my budding spice empire.

And the worst part? It worked.

But how could I possibly be mad at her? She got the water fair and square. Granted, she used psychological warfare, character assassination and a completely fabricated public health crisis, but nowhere in the grocery store's rules of conduct does it say you can’t do that.

Besides, all this poor woman wanted was to get home, pour herself a glass of w**e, and enjoy a little peace and quiet. I get to do that every night, she clearly does not. She could have this one.

Later, in the parking lot, as I was loading groceries into my Tahoe, I heard someone approaching from behind. It was her. For a second, I wondered if she'd come back to accuse my spices of containing asbestos.

Instead, she handed me a single can of root b**r sparkling water. And said:

"I know I'm going to be the villain in your social media story, and I deserve it. But I'm giving you a can so maybe you don't hate me. And maybe the people in the comments won't be too mean?"

Ma'am. How could I hate you?! You gave me content. A beginning, middle and end. A plot twist and a morally ambiguous antagonist with a sympathetic backstory. Not to mention a redemption arc.

Do you have any idea how much people pay Hollywood writers to come up with this s**t? And you just handed it to me for free in a grocery store parking lot.

So, if you're reading this, mysterious root b**r bandit, I hope you enjoyed your w**e. I hope your b***h son (your words, not mine) enjoyed my sparkling water. And I hope your migraine went away.

You may have stolen my beverage, but you gave me something far more valuable… attention. And speaking of people who desperately need attention...

This Thursday, Oct 15th, I'll be hosting Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show at Twin Trees Too in Solvay at 6pm. We'll be there starting at 5:30 PM, registering teams and selling spices.

Come play trivia, buy some spices, and help support a small business owner who was nearly driven into financial ruin by a woman with a migraine and a teenage son.

And if you want to distract me long enough to steal something, I guess all you have to do is yell that you found bugs in my products.

Please don’t. I’m very vulnerable right now and my therapist can’t see me until next week.

I get spice orders every day, all day long. And if you place an order and happen to live really close to me, there’s a d...
10/07/2026

I get spice orders every day, all day long. And if you place an order and happen to live really close to me, there’s a decent chance I’ll just drop it off myself.

No need to involve the United States Postal Service in a journey I can accomplish with my Chevy Tahoe and 3 minutes.

When I do that, I write you a little handwritten note (I apologize in advance for the handwriting), explain why your package did not travel through the mail system, and put your shipping fee back in the package in cash. It just feels like the right thing to do.

This happens a 3 or 4 times a week. Yesterday was one of those times.

An order came in from someone in Cicero. I live in Cicero, and their house happened to be right on my way out of town while I was running errands.

As I always do, I pull into their driveway, leave the Tahoe running, leave my driver’s door open, run the spices up to their front porch, run back to the Tahoe and take off.

Entire interaction: maybe 30 seconds. Think Amazon Prime, but with less organization and money.

So I get on the highway and continue on with my day. A few minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I see something move. Then I see something jump from my backseat onto the center console next to me.

If I’m being honest, it took my brain too long to process this information.

“Oh, look. It’s a cat...WAIT. A F*CKING CAT?!?!”

I almost parallel parked my Tahoe 360 degrees around a telephone pole. There was a cat, IN MY CAR. Apparently, while I was delivering spices at that house, a cat saw my open car door and thought:

“Finally. My Uber is here.”

This damn cat hid in the backseat, and then waited until I was on the highway to climb up front like, ‘You mind if we stop at Target?’

It was not a stray cat, it had a clear plastic collar and some sort of tracking device on the collar. Not an Apple Airtag, but something similar. But no address on the tag or phone number.

So this had to be an outdoor cat who belonged to somebody. Somebody who, presumably at that very moment, was looking at an app wondering why Mr. Whiskers was doing 67 mph down I-81.

Unfortunately, despite apparently having a feline ankle monitor, there was no address on the collar. Not even a little tag that said, “Hi, I’m Kevin. My mother is probably hysterical. Please call her.”

Now I’m almost at the store clear on the other side of the county. So I have a decision to make. Do I turn around, drive all the way back to Cicero, drop him off in his neighborhood and then drive alllllll the way back out here again to finish my errands?

In this economy? With the price of gas? Absolutely not.

Listen, I care about animals, but I’m not made of gasoline. So congratulations, cat. You’re running errands with me for the rest of the day. I’ll drop you off on the way home.

I made three stops all over Central New York with this damn cat.

And every single time I got out of the Tahoe, I was terrified, because I have leather seats and carpeted floor mats. Every time I walked back to the Tahoe, I was mentally preparing myself to find the interior shredded to bits. Nope.

Every single time I came back, there he was, laying in my passenger seat sunning him/herself. Completely relaxed. Not a care in the world.

At some point it felt like I was Driving Miss Daisy.

Eventually, after His Majesty and I completed our tour of Central New York, I drove him all the way back to his neighborhood, pulled over, opened the door and let him out.

He jumped out like this had been the plan the entire time. No thank you and no tip, I might add…

So, if this was your cat and you checked his tracker yesterday wondering how the hell he managed to travel all over Central New York...His tag wasn’t glitching.

He was temporarily kidnapped. Sorry about that. In my defense, he kidnapped himself.

And since I’ve turned accidentally kidnapping a cat into a promotional opportunity...

Come see me Thursday, October 8th at Ten Pin in Chittenango for Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show starts at 7 PM. We’ll be there at 6:30 selling spices and registering teams.

Please leave your cat at home. I can’t be trusted not to kidnap it.

Ask anyone who’s close to me what I’m afraid of and they’ll give you three answers:“His mom, garden gnomes and goats.”My...
10/05/2026

Ask anyone who’s close to me what I’m afraid of and they’ll give you three answers:

“His mom, garden gnomes and goats.”

My mom because…well, that’s pretty self-explanatory if you’ve met her. Hi, Mom! I’m kidding. Mostly. Please don’t call me.

Garden gnomes because I am absolutely convinced those little a$$holes come alive at night, hold meetings and plot the eventual overthrow of humanity.

Laugh now, but when the Great Gnome War begins, don’t come knocking on my door looking for weapons and shelter. I warned you.

But those first two are arguably irrational fears. The goats? That one is based on real life events.

When I was in second grade, we went on a school field trip and I was attacked by a goat.

It chased me, although “chased” is generous because I was a fat little kid and cardio had not entered my personal curriculum (still hasn’t really). Very quickly the goat caught me, headbutted me against a wall and held me there until my teacher came over and pulled it off me.

Do you know how humiliating it is to lose a physical altercation to something that eats tin cans?

I’m going somewhere with this, I promise…

A few weeks ago, I got an email from Brayhope Farm asking if I’d host their 2nd Annual Farm-ily Fall Festival on October 17. Event linked down below.

Now, you know me, you ask me to host something, hand me a microphone and put me in front of people….I’m in. I’m an attention wh*re. I don’t ask follow-up questions.

So naturally, I said yes without doing one single ounce of research into what Brayhope Farm actually does.

Guess what Brayhope Farms is? It’s a local nonprofit where people with special needs get to spend time with, connect with and build confidence through interacting with donkeys and…you guessed it, goats.

F*cking GOATS.

As host, I’ll be on the microphone throughout the day, announcing and emceeing everything from the trunk-or-treat and pumpkin contest to the obstacle course and…get this…the GOAT DERBY.

Yes. I have to host a goat race.

Me. The kid who got assaulted and held against my will by a goat now has to stand in front of a crowd with a microphone and provide play-by-play while a whole pack of those little bastards runs around at full speed.

Honestly, forget Farm-ily Fall Fest. Just rename the event “Josh Confronts His Childhood Trauma: LIVE!”

And I’m supposed to remain professional while doing it, as if I’m not going to be screaming, “AND NUMBER FOUR TAKES THE LEAD! KEEP THAT F*CKER AWAY FROM ME!”

So yes, I will be there and there will be goats.

October 17th. Brayhope Farm. 11-2pm

Come support an incredible local nonprofit, enjoy the festival and witness the rematch nobody asked for: Josh vs. Goats.

I’m older, wiser (sorta) and still not particularly fast.

Anyway, I have until October 17th to mentally prepare for this.

In the meantime, if you’d like to see me in an environment where I’m significantly less likely to be headbutted, come see me Thursday night at the Ten Pin in Chittenango for Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show!

Trivia starts at 7 PM, with team registration and spice sales starting at 6:30.

Come play trivia, buy spices and listen to me talk s**t about goats while pretending I’m not terrified.

And if anyone from Brayhope Farm is reading this, please understand that I am very excited to host your event. I just have some concerns about certain four-legged attendees.

The other night, I hosted Mom’s Off Duty Night at Goodwood Tavern, and there wasn’t a spot to sit inside or out. We had ...
10/01/2026

The other night, I hosted Mom’s Off Duty Night at Goodwood Tavern, and there wasn’t a spot to sit inside or out. We had 64 ladies come out and celebrate with us. No one expected that sized crowd.

Sounds like a good thing, right? Yeah, but here was the problem: I only brought one speaker.

I put it outside so everyone on the patio could hear me through the wireless mic. Great for them. Unfortunately, that meant everyone inside was just listening to me the old-fashioned way: my factory-installed speaker system.

So while the patio got surround sound Josh, everyone inside got me screaming at them like a substitute teacher who had completely lost control of the classroom.

I guess you could say Goodwood had me screaming all night.

Ba-dum-bum.

I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Josh, you are a grown-ass man. Pull it together.

Anyway, I think it’s officially time to invest in another speaker, because I screamed so much that I lost my voice. It’s been VERY quiet in my house for the past few days.

My husband, Joe, is currently on Day 2 of not hearing my voice, and I think this may be the happiest he’s been in our entire 17 year relationship.

21 teams played. That’s 1 answer sheet per team, times 5 rounds - 105 total. That’s a lot of answer sheets to grade on the fly.

I was running around answering questions and talking to people, Sarah was running around making sure she had everyone’s answer sheets and there was nobody to help Joe grade them and keep score.

Suddenly, I turn around and see Ashley from Creative Environment Day School standing behind my Spice Is Right table….that’s what I call my spice table at trivia shows.

I digress….Ashley was standing behind the table helping Joe.

Ashley, I don’t know where you came from. I don’t know when you got there. But thank you. You were about as welcomed as a Xanax at a kids birthday party or an epidural at eight centimeters.

And for those of you keeping track at home, a few months ago I helped Ashley at Creative Day School preparing and serving lunch to the students.

Yesterday, Ashley showed up at MY job and started grading trivia sheets.

So I think we’re even now. I fed your children. You did math for my drunk women.

This is the weirdest bartering system I’ve ever participated in.

I had a complete blast. Thank you for having me. I’m sore, hoarse, and already asking when I can get me some more Goodwood.

Ok, that was the last one. I promise.

In all seriousness, Goodwood asked if I’d be interested in coming back, and I told them I’d be honored.

So when am I going back? I’m not sure. Nothing’s been set yet. I guess you could say…

I’m waiting on Goodwood.

I lied before, THAT’S the last one.

There’s a new cocktail lounge that just opened in Minoa called Goodwood Tavern.Fun fact: Before it was remodeled and bec...
09/22/2026

There’s a new cocktail lounge that just opened in Minoa called Goodwood Tavern.

Fun fact: Before it was remodeled and became Goodwood, my husband and I actually had our broker look into buying the building. Before we could even put in an offer, it sold to Jennifer, who also owns Trappers II in Minoa.

So naturally, I hate Jennifer.

Not for any legitimate reason. She just keeps buying things I want, which feels incredibly inconsiderate of her.

Jennifer, enough already. You have Trappers. You have Goodwood. How much of Minoa do you need? Save some property for the rest of us. This isn't Monopoly. You don't get a hotel because you own three buildings on North Main Street.

Unfortunately, I can’t tease her too much. I've met Jennifer several times and she's actually a genuinely community-minded business owner, which feels increasingly rare these days.

She came out and supported my restaurant, I've gone out and supported hers, and every interaction I've had with her has been great.

I’ve been invited to host their Moms Off Duty Night (can't tag, link below in comments), Monday, 9/28th 6pm.

It’s basically an entire evening dedicated to moms getting the hell out of the house for a few hours. There’s a special Moms Off Duty Margarita Flight, Freyja-LUXE will be there doing permanent jewelry, plus food, cocktails and an entire evening built around not being responsible for another human being for a few hours.

And presiding over the entire thing, for some reason, will be me.

I’m not just showing up to do trivia. I’m HOSTING the night. Beginning to end, Genesis to Revelations. They are giving me a microphone at 6pm and, as far as I can tell, nobody has developed a plan for taking it away from me.

There’ll be Josh’s Trivia. There’ll be Bad Mom’s Bingo. I’ll be bouncing around all night, bothering people, making announcements nobody asked for and generally behaving like this is the Josh Amidon Telethon.

Ashley, Goodwood’s General Manager, reached out to me a few weeks ago and said she was planning this Moms Off Duty Night and wanted to know if I’d be interested in hosting.

You want me to spend the night drinking with a room full of women and saying inappropriate things?

Ashley, I've been doing this unpaid for YEARS. You're asking me to monetize my social life. I can't believe I never thought of this sooner. I've been out here doing this s**t for FREE all this time.

Of course I said yes.

Which brings us back to Jennifer…because Jennifer knows me. And somehow, despite having this information, she approved all of this.

Jennifer, you own multiple businesses. You seem like an intelligent woman. You should know better.

I mean, you JUST spent all that money making Goodwood nice. Why would you do this? I'm what insurance adjusters refer to as an "avoidable liability."

And while we’re on the subject, I have a very serious concern about Monday night.

How the hell am I supposed to say “Goodwood” into a microphone for three hours without eventually making a joke about the forbidden Slim Jim?

You’re putting me in a room full of moms who finally escaped their children, giving them margarita flights, handing me a microphone and then repeatedly requiring me to say GOOD WOOD.

I’m only human.

I give myself 17 minutes.

I MADE A GROUP.Because selling you spices wasn't enough. Now I need to know what the hell you're doing with them.Introdu...
09/20/2026

I MADE A GROUP.

Because selling you spices wasn't enough. Now I need to know what the hell you're doing with them.

Introducing the Gino’s Spices Cooking Club!

You people have been sending me pictures of what you're making, recipes, ideas and weird little spice discoveries for months now, and I LOVE IT.

The problem is, everything gets buried. It's somewhere in my DMs, in the comments of a post from three weeks ago, or you replied to a random story and I will absolutely never be able to find it again.

So now we have one centralized place to put all that awesome s**t.

And more importantly, a place where we can actually share it with each other.

This is where I want you to post what you're making with our spices. Recipes, pictures, tips you've figured out, weird combinations that sounded gross but somehow worked, all of it.

Don't know which spice to put on something? Ask. Between me and everybody else in there, somebody's going to have an idea.

Need an idea for dinner? Tell us what you've got in the fridge.

Let's figure it out.

Made something incredible? SHOW US. And tell us how you made it so the rest of us can steal it.

F@cked something up? Please take a picture before you throw it away. Kitchen disasters are content too.

And if somebody posts something you know how to help with, JUMP IN. Answer their question. Share your trick. Tell them what you would've done.

This isn't supposed to be me standing at the front of the room teaching a cooking class. I want all of us swapping ideas, helping each other and collectively figuring out what else we can do with these stupid little bottles.

I'll be in there too, answering questions, giving pairing suggestions, sharing recipes and probably stealing some of your ideas and pretending I thought of them.

Basically, I want this to become one giant, digital, dysfunctional kitchen. The kind where everybody's cooking, everybody has an opinion, and somebody is inevitably yelling from across the room that you're doing it wrong.

So if you've got a bottle of Gino's Spices sitting in your cabinet, you're already qualified.

Come join us.

And once you're in, POST SOMETHING. Somebody has to go first, and I really don't want it to just be me talking to myself.

Yesterday, I found myself out running errands when it hit me. I’m near Twin Trees 57 in Liverpool. Yes, that’s right… Ro...
09/17/2026

Yesterday, I found myself out running errands when it hit me. I’m near Twin Trees 57 in Liverpool. Yes, that’s right… Ron’s store.

For those of you just joining The Ronspiracy, I host trivia at its sister restaurant, Twin Trees Too, owned by Jennifer and her husband, Ron. In nearly a year, I’ve never actually met or seen Ron because every time I ask where he is, I get the same answer:

“Ron’s running the other store.”

This has led to an investigation involving a confidential informant named Deep Throat, Chicken Francaise hush money and a highly questionable “proof of life” photo.

And now, completely by accident, I was three minutes away from “the other store.”

Enough was enough. Every great investigation eventually reaches a point where someone has to actually investigate something. Unfortunately for all of us, that someone was me.

The planets had aligned. I pulled into the parking lot at exactly 3pm, just as they were opening the doors. God apparently wanted answers too.

Who am I to question the Lord and His mysterious ways?

I walked in, sat at the bar and started talking to the bartender, Ashley. I asked if Ron was in.

“No, he’s not here.”

You’ve got to be f@cking kidding me. Is Jennifer telling every employee at BOTH stores that “Ron’s running the other store?”

I mean, it’s genius. Honestly, it’s sophisticated enough to warrant its own eight-part true crime podcast.

I had already dialed 9-1 and was hovering over the final 1 when Ashley finished her thought:

“He should be back in a minute.”

Oh. I quietly put my phone away. The authorities did not need to be involved…yet.

After a few minutes, I was invited into the back kitchen. I was scared. Listen, I watched The Sopranos. I know what happens in the back of Italian restaurants.

I walked through the door and there was Ron, prepping pizza dough.

We talked for a few minutes and laughed about how this silly little “Where’s Ron?” bit had somehow turned into a full-blown missing-person investigation.

Toward the end of my welfare check, I told Ron I needed a picture. Obviously, after everything we’d been through, you people were going to demand proof of life.

Ron agreed, but he was adamant that we had to walk to the front of the restaurant because there was a giant chicken he wanted to take the picture with.

Okay. Weird request, but I like weird.

So we walked up front, found the giant chicken, I pulled out my phone and got ready to take the picture. And that’s when Ron, a man I had known for approximately five minutes, looked at me and said:

“Make sure you tell everyone I have a big c*ck!”

An inappropriate joke about your meat treat within the first five minutes of meeting me? Sir, you’re a man after my own heart.

So to fulfil my promise…I’ve seen it, it’s massive. Ron’s is the biggest I’ve ever seen. I mean, I’ve seen bigger on the internet, but certainly the biggest I’ve seen in person.

So, there you have it. Ron is alive. The Ronspiracy is over and journalism has prevailed.

Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show is TONIGHT at Twin Trees Too with trivia starting at 6pm. We’ll be there starting at 5:30 to register teams and sell spices.

And at some point during the evening, I will pull Jennifer out of the kitchen and publicly apologize for spending the last few weeks telling all of Central New York that she may have prematurely activated the “till death do us part” clause of her marriage.

It’s the least I can do.

Have you ever thought to yourself, “Gosh, I really want to help some animals find their forever homes, but I’d also like...
09/15/2026

Have you ever thought to yourself, “Gosh, I really want to help some animals find their forever homes, but I’d also like a strange man with a microphone to yell obscure pop culture trivia?”

It’s a very specific need and frankly, until now, it’s gone unfulfilled.

On Thursday, September 24th, I’m heading to Tavern on The Lock in Fulton to host a special Pawtastic Trivia Night to Benefit the Oswego County SPCA.

Tickets are $35 per person and include dinner and trivia. There’ll also be prizes and raffle baskets, with all proceeds going directly to the Oswego County SPCA.

Teams are eight people, but you absolutely do not need eight people to come. If it’s just you, you and your spouse, three friends, whatever, they’ll assign you to a team.

I’m donating my hosting fee because I love the SPCA and I’m happy to do it. My husband, however, had to be paid to come with me. His fee isn’t money, it’s worse.

Negotiations were tense and the price was steep - but I have agreed to give Joe THREE unrestricted “I told you so’s” to be used at any point in the future when I do something stupid, ignore his advice and he ultimately has to come fix it for me.

No expiration date, no appeals. He gets to look me directly in the eyes, say “I told you so,” and I have contractually agreed to shut the hell up and take it.

Based on our marriage’s historical data, he’ll probably have them spent by October.

Seriously though, it should be a really fun night for a really good cause, and with only four tables left, grab your tickets if you want to come. If nothing else, it’s a good date night!

Now, normally this is where a decent person would end the post. We helped the animals. We promoted a good cause. Everyone feels warm inside.

Unfortunately, you’re dealing with me.

While the Oswego County SPCA is trying to provide food, shelter and medical care to animals in need, I am facing a crisis of my own.

I have once again been nominated for Best Local Media Personality in Central New York by syracuse.com

And I need attention….badly.

I’ve won this category the last two years, which you might think would satisfy a normal human being.

It has not. If anything, you people have created a monster. I now require an annual plaque from the people of Central New York confirming that I remain sufficiently entertaining.

You might look at the other names on the list of other nominees and wonder…Josh, there’s MUCH bigger names than yours on this list…how the hell did you win the past two years?

Very simple, I begged and pleaded. I did everything short of prostituting myself for votes. Not because I have standards. I made the offer, there just wasn’t a market.

Do you see Ted & Amy 93Q out in these streets begging strangers for votes? No, you don’t.

That’s because they were raised with dignity, class, grace, humility and self-respect. They have professional reputations to uphold. They understand that winning isn’t everything and that sometimes it’s enough simply to be nominated.

Suck it.

Luckily for me, I am completely untethered to any of those things.

Dignity? Long gone. Grace? Never really had it. Humility? Sounds exhausting. Professional reputation? I sell a seasoning called Spice Sl*t.

There is nothing holding me back from becoming absolutely unbearable about this for the next several weeks.

Anyway, the link to vote is down in the comments.

I’ve won the last 2 years, but I need the hat trick.

Oh my God…is that a sports reference? It’s starting already.

I’m so desperate for votes I’ve already started pandering to demographics that traditionally want nothing to do with me.

First up: sports fans.

Next thing you know, I’ll be courting cryptocurrency bros, CrossFit moms and people who think Facebook posts should be three sentences maximum.

I WILL BUILD A COALITION.

Vote Josh Amidon.

PHOTO CREDIT: I mentioned dogs, which means I am legally obligated to use a photo of my dog on this post. I can’t ever take a good picture of Reno because he’s too wily and I’m too impatient, so I stole this one from Carm's Cicero page. We take him there once a week for doggy daycare.

There’s a growing problem in Central New York that no one seems willing to talk about.The mayor won’t address it, town b...
09/10/2026

There’s a growing problem in Central New York that no one seems willing to talk about.

The mayor won’t address it, town boards won’t put it on the agenda and county legislators continue to look the other way. But it’s spreading. The numbers are in, and we can’t ignore it anymore.

Folks, Central New York has a sl*t problem…And I’m afraid it’s my fault. Last month, we launched our newest spice blend, Spice Sl*t. In that month, we’ve sold 2,139 bottles.

Believe it or not, that works out to an average of 69 bottles a day. Yup, you read that right, 69 bottles of Spice Sl*t.

Coincidence? Probably. But I choose to believe the universe understands branding.

It seems selling 2,139 bottles of a seasoning called Spice Sl*t in such a short period of time has had an unintended consequence.

You people have gotten way too comfortable yelling the word “sl*t” in public. And I fear I may have played some small role in lowering the moral standards of Central New York.

To be clear, I’m not taking full responsibility. Some of you were clearly halfway there when I found you. But I gave you a product, a reason and the confidence to start yelling “SL*T!” at people in grocery stores, restaurants, parking lots and other places where we used to have a little goddamn decorum.

Folks, come on. Jesus is watching.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to corrupt CNY, I just wanted you to season your chicken.

For example…at the State Fair. I was walking through the Midway when I spotted a man, probably in his mid-to-late 50s, with his two adult daughters flanking him on either side.

He saw me, his face lit up - and across a crowded Midway, this man yelled:

“OH MY GOD! IT’S THE SPICE SL*T!”

Sir, first of all…thank you, for making me feel seen. I love attention of any kind. Plus it was fun to see my husband’s face turn redder than Satan’s a$$ crack in July.

BUT…your daughters were visibly distraught. They were equal parts embarrassed and confused as to why their father had just enthusiastically screamed the word “SL*T” at another man in the middle of the New York State Fair.

Also, Dad, just a little FYI: keep an eye on the daughter that was on your right. Embarrassment and confusion were there, yes, but underneath both of those was another look. It was the unmistakable look of:

“I cannot WAIT to put you in a home. Just give me a reason.”

I recognized it immediately because I’ve spent years hiding that exact same look from my own mother. (Go ahead, mom. Test me.)

And before I get too judgmental about what I’ve done to all of you, I should probably admit something…I’m part of the problem, too.

About a month ago, we brought Spice Sl*t to Ten Pin for the first time to sell during one of my trivia shows.

A gentleman in his early 60s bought a bottle, sprinkled some on his fries and came over to tell me that he and his wife, who was in the bathroom, were both big fans and considered themselves “spice sl*ts.”

Wonderful. Love that for you both.

A few seconds later, I see the wife walking out of the bathroom and toward the husband and myself. When she arrived next to the husband, without hesitation, I greeted her with:

“HI! YOU MUST BE THE SL*T?!”

Her face dropped, she looked horrified. She was NOT his wife. She was just a woman the same age as the man, who came to play trivia. She wasn’t walking to join our conversation, she was walking to the bar for another drink.

She looked at me with the acidity of reflux and said:

“My God, no! I’ve only had two drinks. That doesn’t happen until at least my fourth or fifth.”

I paid for her drink and apologized profusely. Once I explained what had happened, she actually found the whole thing quite funny.

Thank God. People have been canceled for less. My husband, meanwhile, wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Anyway, that was one month ago, and somehow Ten Pin in Chittenango is still allowing me back in the building.

In fact, I’ll be there tonight hosting Josh’s Jeopardy & Seasoning Show at 7pm. I’ll be onsite starting at 6:30pm registering teams and selling all seven of our spice blends, including, of course, the product responsible for Central New York’s ongoing moral decline.

Address

Fayetteville, NY

Opening Hours

Monday 11am - 2:30pm
3:30pm - 8pm
Tuesday 11am - 2:30pm
3:30pm - 8pm
Wednesday 11am - 2:30pm
3:30pm - 8pm
Thursday 11am - 2:30pm
3:30pm - 8pm
Friday 11am - 2:30pm
3:30pm - 8pm
Saturday 11am - 2:30pm
3:30pm - 8pm

Telephone

+13156372333

Website

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