GOOCHONLINE - Since 1999

What the fuck. It's midnight? I'm in my neon lit office working on the same laptop for about six hours (two billable) merely for the sake of learning and troubleshooting. It's a good thing, I'd probably be drunk right now. My drunken antics at night yield better stories than my tech support antics. I'm watching the Ashlee Simpson show right now. I'm actually going to have to work eight-hour days starting Thursday through Monday.

Now that I have real couches in my living room, I've lost the excuse to get girls to watch television upstairs in the bedroom because you couldn't sit on the futon for more than ten minutes at a time withour incurring injury or at least having your ass fall asleep. It's the end of an era:

IF YOU'RE WATCHING THIS TV AT NIGHT, YOU'LL PROBABLY BE WATCHING IT IN THE MORNING.

Speaking of my mattress, I need to get another one. I don't think you can just throw away my old one. it'll have to be burned or something. God, the fumes from the lube (silicon and water based), scented massage oils, and the pheromones alone might cause an air quality advisory.

I've been watching a lot of television lately. A lot of commercials about hounding the fuck out of your kids during their free time to keep them from drugs and alcohol. Hey, parents, I've got a tip to keep kids off drugs: Lock your liquor cabinet, get your bong off of the coffee table, and hide your fucking coke better.

Also on the TV tip: Sunday night I watched King of the Hill and Simpsons. KoH was about an overbearing, obnoxious Hispanic gentleman who gets in a fight with his wife and somewhat forces his stay at the Hill Household and imposes on their family. The Simpsons was about Homer becoming an ordained minister. Both plotlines paralleled episodes of my own life within the last eight months.

Drunk Gooch is the best: I was just cleaning out the kitchen a bit and found a 7-11 sack with two hot dog boxes, a twinkies wrapper (you fat fuck), a Maxim Magazine and a Rock Star energy drink. I don't remember purchasing any of this stuff. The Maxim and Rock Star came in handy tonight. What a pleasant surprise. Drunk Gooch needs his own credit card, though.

I'm in a really good mood right now. I know it's artificial, probably from the caffeine I just consumed. I'm supposed to go on "stabilizing" drugs to keep my moods normal. I'm supposed to avoid coffee and alchohol, which is like taking an ice-pick to the Bubble-Boy's life giving plastic shell. I'm fucking freaking out. If I really start to freak out, I'm going to hire Rodney Gooch to assassicate me. The only cool ways to die are to be assassinated, or to die while pulling kids out of a burning orphanage. I'm likely going to die from an untreated case of syphilis because I was too lazy to open up my health insurance packet. Not a cool way to go, but if it's good enough for Al Capone... what the fuck, right?

I thought we were invincible. But now I know that the things that people in love do to each other, they remember. And if they stay together, it's not because they forget. It's because they forgive.