Technical notes of interest: This Sunday at 3PM PST, the blogger service may be down for a couple of hours. You should be spending time with your Mother anyway, and sure as fuck not reading this webshite.

I've added a public wireless access point to Skyland Pub in Troutdale, OR. Bring your laptop and surf the web while you drink and smoke. I've only got one antenna in right now, so the closer to the pool tables you sit, the better. The whole bar gets a signal, though.

Happy Mothers' Day.

Happy Birthday, Traci Lords.

Saw Friends last night. It was an episode written not for the cast of Friends, but perhaps an ensemble of actors who can actually act. The range of emotions called for on last night's episode was a little too wide for the abilities of the cast. I noticed a typo during the retrospective... a graphic scrolled through the years 1994 through 2004, but it skipped 2002. I guess my sight wasn't clouded by tears, so I was able to notice it.

Montage city: Frazier's finale coming up and it looks like it will blow huge ass as well. Niles looks like he too is being called upon to show more emotion than he, and possibly the fans, will be comfortable with.

May both Friends and Frazier should have had their characters end up in jail, like Seinfeld.

Goochonline.com: In its fifth season and has consistently sucked every year. Lack of quality never goes out of style.

Portland, OR: Firebomb hits new Starbucks

I'm so outraged by this senseless act of destruction that I've personally interviewed witnesses and based on their accounts and the surveillance video, I've come up with this sketch:

If you've seen this man and/or his donkey, please call your local police immediately.

My Dad corrected me on some typos on the last blog. This isn't hardcore literature. This ain't fucking Tolstoy. This is short form, short attention span reading. I'll be damned if I'm going to spend more time writing this shit than people spend reading it. From now on, I declare that I'm a competent writer and if there's any grammatical or spelling errors in the future; ignore them. I'm writing this on my faithful Compaq laptop while laying on a bed while watching porn. I don't have time for spellcheck.

I've acquired some new habits in the last few weeks.

I was in the bathroom at a bar a couple of weeks ago. It was one of those unisex bathrooms with a sink and a toilet, one person at a time. My social anxiety kicks in and sometimes I use public restrooms merely to get away from people. I remember going into the boys' bathroom in high school because there were no girls there and I lived in perpetual self consciousness and shyness at the time. I soon discovered alcohol and an artificial self confidence that I have maintained to this day.

So in this bathroom in a bar I'm standing. Contemplating life. Contemplating my lack of sobriety. Contemplating urinating in the sink, for I had to piss pretty bad. Perhaps it's an American Disabilities Act code compliance, or just a really low sink. Right below the zipper and a smaller than usual outer edge were qualities that drew me to this sink. My dick was drawn to this sink like it was a toothless midget. I whipped out all three inches of my penis, instinctly looking over my shoulder like I always do when I'm doing something that most people deem socially unacceptable. I aimed for the drain in the center of the sink and unleashed the fury that only two pitchers of Coors Light and three Jack Daniels w/ Diet Coke could store in the human bladder. I turned on the spigot and effectively washed my hands and flushed at the same time. The toilet stared at me as if it was neglected somehow. I smirked coldly at the toilet while I zipped up. I turned around, unlocked the door and went back to my pool game.

When you consolidate lifting the seat, urinating, flushing, and washing your hands into a two step process, it's the ultimate in efficiency. Watching me urinate in a sink is probably as exhilirating as watching an Indy pit crew work on a car during a race. I need a plumber to lower my sink at home. I need to invent a urinal/sink combo. I'll revolutionize plumbing/bathrooms as we know it. I've pissed in a porn store video booth, the shower, the meat preparation room at an Albertson's, various places. This has changed my life. Fuck yeah. gooch:I'm back.

I accidentally downloaded a bestiality porn where this Lassie looking dog is plowing away on some hot chick. The girl was good looking; better than a lot of girls I've dated. What kind of world do we live in where I can go through a dry spell, but a fucking labrador can bang hot chicks? Stop the planet, I want to get off.

Started a full length column about turning 30 this week. Depressing to write about. I've always goofed on being 30 in the past, and now I'm it.

Curb Your Enthusiasm is the greatest thing since Seinfeld.

It's getting hot in the crib. Dusting off the fans and greatly anticipating the opening of the MILF magnet (condo pool) 100 feet away from my front door.

gooch:OUT