And at the 11:11...

Here's an interesting set of articles. A lot of this looks familiar to me... on both sides of the fence.

Friendship vs. Emotional Affairs

The Dangers of Emotional Affairs

Danger? What's the danger of any affair? Getting caught?

Here's a site for people who want to cheat: AshleyMadison

Heh. It's not 11:11 as I write this. I wonder if I'll be drinking or sleeping as this gets published tonight.

Hint: Drinking.

Gooch:Out

No, I won't go to Nebraska with you, Mom!

I love that parents are taking their teenagers to Nebraska, the dumping ground for kids, to get rid of them. Hell, the 16 and 17 year olds can drive themselves: "Just drive yourself to a hospital in Nebraska and leave the keys in the cupholder. I'll get the car later, after I sleep off my coke binge."

Ha!

CNN: Nebraska fears rush to drop off kids before haven law change

"Of the 34 kids dropped off, none has been an infant; 28 have been older than 10"

Wow... 34 chances of another school shooting prompted by the overt acts of non-love from shitty parents. It's like aborting a fetus in the 48th trimester. A fetus that can crive a car and almost legally vote.

Heh.

The world is batshit fucking crazy.

goochout.

Finally, it's fucking Friday.

After all the bitching about long hours is done, I like that I ended up getting a lot of stuff done. It's a sense of accomplishment. Surviving a long work week is like giving a girl an orgasm. The only difference is that I'm only really capable of doing the former. And I don't really care about the latter.

So two differences.

Second cup of coffee... down the hatch.

Back to work.

goochout.

Eh...

Worked until 10pm last night. There were painters in my building, painting walls. They were very nice and warned me not to bump into certain walls. This warning undoubtedly ensured my fate as to the streaks of paint on the sleeves of my shirt.

Something like that happens and your instinct is to be pissed off at someone. I laughed at myself for thinking that I should be mad at someone for painting in an office at 9pm and not only asking my permission to paint a door jamb, but again reminding me that it was wet before he left.

Heh, I'm a prick.

Back to the grill this afternoon. Solved some major crises this morning, now I'm chilling with Gregster at his office while he does, you know, important shit.

goochout.

Yo...

Hey.

Happy Birthday to my Mother, who I'm sure doesn't know about this site.

Thank God.

Busy week.

Maybe blog tonight. Sorry for the lack of content. Not inspired lately.

Eh.

goochout.

Only 45 days, 11 hours, and 25 minutes until XMAS...

On my list this year:

Darth Vader Toaster:

Morning Wood...

Emmanuelle Chriqui

I woke up this morning and watched last night's Entourage. Emmanuelle Chriqui made a guest appearance giving me, that's right, morning wood. I would have rubbed one out, too, except that little troll Kevin Connolly was in the scene, ruining the moment I so desperately wanted to share with Emmanuelle.

People say that relationships are an opportunity to grow, learn about yourself, learn about other people, and as a way to share experiences with someone that you truly care for. I think that every relationship I've had from 2003 to present has been an opportunity to be punished for every shitty thing I did during my relationships previous to 2003.

At the end of the evening, I almost want to get into my car and call someone and say "sorry I didn't make enough time for you" or one of many "sorries" I should have doled out during the late nineties/early 2000s. It's like a reverse "My Name is Earl" except instead of a list of sins to atone, I'm pretty much getting my list handed to me.

Along with my ass.

But I digest. I'm up early. I'm pumped about getting some projects done at work. I'm thankful for everything that I have, and everything that I hope to have in the future.

That's a better way to start the morning, right?

That, and maybe a tug to Emmanuelle Chriqui.

Heh.

gooch:out

This is what it's like when worlds collide...

I'm at a girl's house on her computer, writing this blog. She knows it exists, but I've kept it hidden through my technical prowess. She uses Internet Explorer and I'm rocking Firefox. CTRL+SHIFT+DEL clears the private data. I'm a ninja. A big fat ninja that knows how to type.

Obviously, I'm having trouble concentrating. I need home turf advantage. I can't think while sitting on the floor feeling my ass fall asleep. We both deserve better.

Olive Garden commercial. Olive Garden sucks.

Speaking of home turf advantage, I'm actively looking to get the fuck out of Troutdale. There's nothing there for me, except for Marty.

Note: That blonde chick on CSI Miami is the worst actress in the history of acting. I just saw a promo where she dared to act in a dramatic fashion.

Maybe it's the television watching. I can't type with someone's big TV in front of me.

I'm going to publish this as a reminder to not... whatever.

goochout