GOOCHONLINE - Since 1999

With the Holidays approaching, people have begun exchanging recipes in anticipation of the upcoming feasts to be had through the end of the year. I tried out a recipe last night that I'd like to share with you. It's a recipe passed down through my family for weeks, so grap a pen and paper and jot this down.

.5 MGs Xanax (anti anxiety)
750MG Methocarbamol (muscle relaxer)
500MG Vicodin (pain killer)

After a full anxiety ridden week, this is what it took to finally give me some uninterrupted sleep. I laid down at 7:00pm on my ex-girlfriend's couch in my ex-girlfriend's darkened living room and turned the Phil Hendrie Show on my ex-girlfriend's stereo. At 7:05, I started feeling tingly. At 7:06. I was conscious and aware of where I was, so when this overwhelming tingle started coming over me I really thought I fucked myself up. The next thing I remember is seeing a bright, hazy light... confirming that I overdosed through some deadly mixture of prescription pills. I'm not nearly the pill popper that my "xanaxlover" moniker would suggest. However, that doesn't change the fact that I really, for a second thought I was dead. With all of the shit going on with me (shit I won't go into because even I'm sick of hearing about it) I had visions (not of my life flashing before my eyes that in the movies) of tomorrow's Metro section in the Oregonian listing me as some guy on the brink of suicide for weeks who ultimately killed myself with the pills I so often wrote about.

I saw the light, however, and instead of tallying my accomplishments, I mentally wrote a press release. The light was glowing, calling me towards it. It then gave up trying to wake me and proceeded to cover me with another blanket so I wouldn't get cold in the middle of the night.

The "light" was the 60 watter I installed in my hallway and the "voice" was my ex-girlfriend (who's graciously let me stay for a while until I find a place of my own) who'd just come home.

I slept for a much deserved ten hours, woke up, then fell asleep again.

My boss at my place of employment uses the word "transition" for a lot of different things. If someone gets promoted, it's talked about as their "transition." If someone changes jobs, it's talked about as their "transition." If someone gets laid off... you get the idea.

So to fill you in on my life (close the window if you absolutely cannot give a shit):

My girlfriend transitioned me from the position of boyfriend to (what I hope to) best friend.

Consequently, I need to transition myself and belongings out of the apartment in which I've lived for two years.

The breakup has transitioned my years-old porn star celebrity pictures from a locked drawer to my website in an effort to put interest in a site where I temporarily can't focus my writing attention.

Someone transitioned my stored valuables out of my parents' house.

I'm going to transition myself to a bar tonight and transition some beer down my throat. The Tonic Lounge on NE Sandy in Portland is where I'll be.