I left work at Skyland early tonight due to illness. I've taken some Theraflu but read the label first because I couldn't tell if it would wake me up or put me to sleep. The warnings include the following statements:

May cause drowsiness (a good thing).

May cause excitablility (a bad thing).

What kind of drugs are we doling out that can cause such a wide range of side effects? Is it just "wait and see?" I'm perplexed. I'm also feeling a bit drowsy. Who knows. Who cares.

I left the Pub early last night as well and apparently someone showed up to see me right after I left. They called my cell phone (which was out of range at the time, so no caller ID) and left a message stating "I came all this way and you're not here!" I have no idea who it was. I've asked a few people and no one I can think of showed up. If you know who it was, email me. And if it was you: I'm sorry.

Sort of...

GOOCH:license to [be] ill.

I could make a career out of removing browser hijacks, spyware, etc. In fact, I almost have. I've got one computer in the shop that I cannot seem to rid of its affliction. I've ran four different utilities and it keeps coming back. I've manually deleted... oh crap I've just spent too much time on this. Fuck. This is post 691 since I started using Blogger (speaking of spending too much time).

Oh, I was drinking in my friend's garage last night and we started talking about shows going crappy. I referred him to Jump the Shark. Check it out, yo.

Just had a strong craving for red wine... weird.

Loving my new executive big leather office chair. It leans back in order to give me that pompous executive, condescension effect.

gOOCH:oUT.

Look at those pictures... Portraits of a Hangover? Working at Skyland tonight. Not a lot going on this weekend. I guess I'll seek out adventure. I just wish I could write about half the shit I do. Too many people come across this site "accidentally."

I slept in what seemed to be two-hour shifts last night. Damn. It's 7:18. I've got to wait around for that FedEx box. I am, by the way, sitting on a sweet black leather office chair that my friend and favorite client gave me. It's so choice. It's used but it feels good to sit in when I update this website, send invoices, or download smut.

It's 3:29am. Eight shots of Jack Daniels and a gallon of Diet Pepsi to put me down last night. A little drink-and-dialing (Whatup Angela... Jnau... Kay...), a little drink-and-buy junk fooding, and now I'm putting together the pieces of the evening. Did have the busiest work week ever since self employed. Tomorrow's going to be busy, including working at Skyland where I'll be cutting anyone off who gets as drunk as I did last night. The cool thing is that I've got that fridge full of bottled water next to the bed, so I've been able to pound the fluids and not have to get out of bed to do so.

Gooch:out.

Oh, my yahoo instant messenger ID is: goochthecolumn, since people have asked me about IM.

Back to bed. I have a strange FedEx package that's been attempted to be delivered twice to my house. I'm not sure what it is. Almost nervous. Anthrax a couple of years too late? A human head, like in Seven? I've already ordered my Viagra for the year. What could it be?

I'll keep you posted, I'm sure the suspense is torturing you as much as it is me.

Gooch:out again.

The MTV Video Music Awards:

Not an impressive event. The presenters' scripts have historically been too scripted and awkward. This year's was no different. Dave Chappelle, the funniest man alive, came off as unfunny... as though he didn't have a script and just ad-libbed during the time alotted. The final song performed by Outkast's Andre 3000, "Hey Ya" was almost sung in protest with the singer's hand in his pocket and prefacing the song with "for the millionth time..." Anyway, MTV sucks. They killed the radio star, they've killed the video star, and they've killed awards shows. MTV is like a cancer. Fuck them. MTV2 is airing shows now instead of videos during parts of the day. Soon we're going to have to wait for MTV3 to see videos again.

At 8pm last night I was driving to Winnco, contemplating shopping with the last of my cash and going to sleep early. Suddenly, my Nextel beeped and before I knew it I was on my way to the Budweiser bar owner appreciation party with my friends Marty and Rob.

To Barracuda's we went. Once inside, I soaked up the atmosphere and a whole lot of complimentary low-carb Bacardi coolers (wild cherry flavor). I acheived that euphoric moment where I'm walking by myself, drink in hand, and everything is is slow motion. I've got a shit-eating grin on my face and nothing is wrong in the world. It's an experience that can likely only be attributed to a raging alcohol problem, but fuck it.

Swimming time. Gooch:OUT

The cool thing about my Zippo lighter is that now when someone asks "is that a Zippo lighter in your pocket" I can say "yes" instead of "no, it's my unusually small, square penis."

I watched the MTV VMAs last night. I've got comments developing...

A Radiant Russian Bride International Introductions

Ymike, in his infinite wisdom, has solved all of my dating problems. SWEET!

Oh...

Gooch's dating tip #42: If you bring a girl to a club, don't make out with another girl on the dance floor.

I got a free Zippo lighter from a promotions girl at a bar last week. I'm so much of a fucking nerd that I had to look on the internet to see how to fill it. I don't even smoke. The ladies love it, though, when they pull out a cigarette and you put a flaming gold-toned Zippo in their face.

Gimme a light. No... I meant Bud Light.

I brought a date to Duke's (the country bar where my friends and I meet a lot of chicks).

"Hi... Beach, this is Sand. Sand... have you met Beach?"

A predictable disaster. Meanwhile, a female friend called me from an Ultimate Fighting competition where she was on a date. She needed to be rescued as the excitement of men beating the fuck out of each other couldn't compete with the sheer horror she experienced during conversation time. "I'm in hell," she reported to me over the phone. A bad night for dates overall.

Also, I nicked my goatee with a razor while shaving, so I had to amputate the whole thing. Now people can see my face, which doesn't help me on the dating scene.

Fuck. My mood is very "Empire Strikes Back" right now. Dark and complex with only a hint of optimism.

What the fuck am I talking about? How does a person sit in front of a computer and type incessantly about nothing of any real consequence. I could do this all day. Nothing but carpal tunnel would stop me.

GOOCH:stupid