Thursday, July 22, 2004

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

I was requested by a reader to insert her name ramdomly into the site: Amber.

There, that's done.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Chicago's Daily Herald: Elburn man accused of having sex with dog 
 
 
Linda Ronstadt Fired from the Aladdin in Las Vegas.

It was in the Aladdin where I stated to my friend (while playing video poker and buzzed as hell): "I'm going on a bender of chicks and fucking booze this summer. I'm gonna need to borrow your hot tub." I was also approached by a prostitute in the Aladdin. She would have "taken care of me" for $300. At that point taking care of me would have been getting me some Taco Bell and a glass of water, and calling me a cab.

And maybe a hand job.

I'm kidding.

Look who didn't drink himself to sleep last night and woke up in his own house... I was up until 12:30am watching season 2 of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." I cooked up two pounds of frozen shrimp, melted a stick of butter, and laughed myself to sleep while butter ran down my chin.


Monday, July 19, 2004


Robin, Eric, and Gooch at a barbecue last weekend. Good times.
Jorja Fox has gone from Crime Scene Investigations to Unemployment Scene Investigations. I never liked her character... always with that arrogant, smug look. Sounds like the producers opened up a fresh can of Bitchbegone and got rid of her and another guy who thought he deserved more money per episode.

GRATUITOUS PICTURE OF LINDSAY LOHAN

Judge Judy is on... gotta run. Seasons one and two of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" arrived at my Dad's office. There's a total of 10 hours of Larry David magic in those discs. Sweet!

Nap time.

My Friday night was so profoundly fucked up that it was hilarious. Actually the whole day: from the minute I woke up until I passed out on my friends' couch. I sweat the small stuff, it's part of my personality. I worry about every miniscule mal-occurrence that comes my way. It's my nature. However, when one big thing or so many little things can be so fucked up... I smile. I laugh.

Ha fucking ha... indeed.I didn't even feel like drinking once I got home. I did, anyway, but you know what I mean.  Alcoholics are only loveable in movies.  Where's Dudley Moore when you need him? Oh yeah, he's fucking dead.

I got a decent work week scheduled. My heart keeps doing its stuttering thing. It's fucking annoying. Normally it's, well, normal. Sometimes it starts beating really fast for no reason... skips... or beats really slow. The lack of rhythm proves that my heart is, in fact, white.

Where's my ABBA CD... I need to get the fuck out of here. GOOCH:working