You can tell I'm depressed and on a diet when I start to wonder about the carbohydrate content of a gun barrel.

My reputation precedes me.

Actual email correspondence from a colleague whom I've known since 2001. This is in response to an email I sent this morning at 6:20am:

What are you doing up and working at this hour? A New Years Resolution......or just not made it to bed yet?

I get to go get my teeth cleaned at the dental school today. Freakin' hot chick dental hygiene students almost make the botched scraper work tolerable. Almost.

When you've had the heart ripped from your chest, it makes every song on the radio into a sad one.

I'm back on the market again, not that I was off. It's confusing. Send a picture and an essay in five words or less why you want to date a guy that fixes computers and maintains a blog. Open to girls 18 and over. ID required.

goochout

Toyota develops anti drunk-driving technology for cars.

Motorola needs to do the same thing for my phone. A USB breathalyzer tied into Outlook perhaps? Finally, social controls I can get behind 100% Or .08%. At least.

goochout

VIDEO: 'American Pie' starlet Tara Reid blows New Year's Eve Countdown [alongside a horrified Efren Ramirez, "Pedro" from Napoleon Dynamite]: 20, 9, 8, 5, 14, 13, 12, 11...

What a horrible lineup for a New Years party. Who the fuck is Efren Ramirez and Tara Reid? I met Pedro at The Refectory here in Portland. Tara Reid hasn't done shit besides get drunk and get botched implants. Maybe her surgeon was drunk, too? It's as if the Surreal Life had a New Years party.

This is... um... uncomfortable to watch. Star Wars Two-Hour Holiday Special in 5 minutes.

For being as bitter and defeated and heartbroken as I was entering New Year's Eve, I managed to have a good time. I got past self loathing myself and ordered a prime rib and a Jack Daniels/Diet Coke. It's the greatest combination... ever. It's heaven to burp up. After that I shot off to Gregster's house and hung out with some friends there. His Girlfriend's sister is married to one of my best friend's Brother in Law. Small world, indeed. There was great food, tons of alcohol, and a hot tub. Alas, there was no one there that would kiss me at midnight. At least with tongue.

So I went to Skyland to find a makeout slut. At midnight I kissed the bartender, a random cute girl, and a friend of mine in the car on the way to the bonfire.

Oh yeah... after Skyland we went to a bonfire with a keg. That was cool. I was a bit plowed at that point. I think I remember myself saying "I'm gonna smell like I was at a bonfire!"

Eight years of college paying itself the fuck off.

I woke up ten minutes ago on Nikki's couch. As I type this she told me that I cried myself to sleep on the couch. Once again, sober Gooch wants to kick drunk Gooch's ass. It's an ongoing battle between those two.

Gonna get some food. Sober Gooch is hungry.

Happy New Year.

goochout.

I've had the most tumultuous time these last four days. It's as though I'm on some whirlwind chain of events that will eventually lead up to some climactic ending to a bizarre indie film.

But that's thinking way too hard about things. It's New Years, the artificial starting point for all of us to resolve to be better people. A social construction that allows us to be complete degenerates every year on December 31. Eat one more truffle, drink more drink, do one more line, screw one more ugly man or woman (that you tell your friends about), and ultimately vomit once more into a toilet in a whose house (or city, in some cases) you have no idea.

January 1: A new beginning. We'll be better people in 2007. I'm so disenfranchised right now. So much so that I won't even bother spell checking that word. I've had a carpet pulled from under me - my heart ripped out of my chest and tonight I'll cover that gaping hole in my chest with a shirt that didn't fit me two months ago (21 pounds since November 10... I'm only morbidly obese now) and eat prime rib and drink and find some random girl to make out with at midnight.

So it's pretty much like any given Sunday for the Gooch. The Gooch who is...

out.