Yo.

I've got the mother of all sore throats. Holy... fucking shit. I've popped so much Ibuprofen that I actually passed some of my stomach lining this morning. Went to the Ash Street last night. Fuck, I was sober the entire time. Sober, sweaty from the Advil, drinking a water, and watching some bands. I slept in so hard today. They should videotape my sleeping in this morning and use the footage for an instructional video on unemployment. I bought a new pair of Adidas yesterday. I'm working the door at Skyland again tonight. Watched GOthis morning. "Go" is also the Japanese word for "five." Five is also the number of fucking Advil I took this morning to keep the sore throat in check. I'm about to go take another nap.

I contacted the crew from COPS to "digitize" my face in the picture below (4/8/03). It's one of the rare times I've altered a previous log, but God, that was awful. Thanks to the Tylenol, my fever is going down like your sister. Or your gay brother. Today, I'm putting the final touches on a bachelor party I helped coordinate. The full effect of the bachelor party may be lost on me. While I eagerly anticipate the event, I'm sort of thinking that what you people call a bachelor party: Drinking too much, watching porn, eating too much, looking at strippers, not having to work the next day, puking the next day, etc... is what I often call a typical Tuesday night.

Oh, look, cold pizza for breakfast. Again!

Gooch: lacking adult supervision since November 2002.

Wow, I look like hell. Many props to Dominos Pizza for delivering my life supporting food to me tonight.

THE COORS LIGHT HELICOPTER FOLLOWED CLOSE BEHIND...

My God. I think I'm dying. Flu has set in. Much work to do this week. I still reign supreme as the busiest unemployed guy on the planet. I've got three places to be before noon tomorrow. Every muscle in my body aches. I have a friend coming over to give me a back rub. No, I won't tell you his name. Just kidding; it's a chick. Even in sickness, I'm cracking the predictable jokes. I'm checking IDs at Skyland this Thursday and Saturday. Instead of using hand stamps as proof of admission, I'm going to spray people's white T-shirts with Chloraseptic. If I have any left. Sore throat, stuffy head, puffy eyes. I look like death without the dignity or Cher without the makeup.

THIS IS MY FACE ON NYQUIL

See April 4th's blog for a reference as to how frustrated I am at the Scarface situation.

Last night I went to Hollywood Video to rent Scarface. Couldn't find it in DVDs. Couldn't find it in VHS.

Asked the girl at the counter where I could find Scarface, one of the greatest gangster films of all time. She said "Oh, we don't have it, surprisingly."

Surprisingly, indeed.

"You mean to tell me that your store has 1000 copies of Mariah Carey's "Glitter" and not one copy of Scarface?" I shot back.

"Someone likely stole our last copy of Scarface and never returned it" she volleyed. She dared to continue: "You know, for like $15.00 you could probably just buy a copy from Best Buy.

My friend had to keep me from jumping across the counter in a violent rage (Again, read April 4th's blog for some background info on this pathetic saga).

Word.

After a brief stop at Skyland Pub, I went to the Widmer Gasthaus for more beer and Greg's birthday party (see blog below) and then went back to the Skyland, then went to Old Chicago for more beer, then went to a friend's house to drink more because I couldn't really be drunk if I was able to drive to all those places.

Then, this morning, I threw up in my own toilet for the first time since I moved into the condo in January.

Good times. Good times. I did wake up early to help a friend get to work this morning. And that task is all I've accomplished today.

Well, my Swatch watch seems to be running really slow. I moved it ahead last night and it's already moved itself back to pre-daylight savings time. Time to hit up ebay for a new time piece. Wow, could you have asked for any more useless trivia about me? I'm bored just writing it.

GOOCH: WELL HUNG. OVER.