Fuck it.

Meh.

Unfortunately, there's a gauntlet of bars between anywhere I'm at, and my house. So I stopped in to a couple. Let's go down my to-do list:

Eat too much: check
Drink too much: check
Send angry drunken texts to an ex girlfriend: check
Wake up with hangover and nausea: check
Apology phone calls: check

It's all pretty standard. Really.

Mad props to Q-Ball for sending me home before I got too wasted.

goochout




I have to get out of Troutucky. I've had enough of it. It's a cess pool. It's a tourist town with no tourist attractions. It's just a bunch of bars and people that work in bars. The people that don't work in the bars spend 8 hours a day at a bar and brag about the fact that they know the owner/bartender/cocktail waitress/bus boy and that the bar is, in a sense, "theirs." Fucking douchey. Sorry I don't want to sit in a bar for a full work shift's worth of time listening to someone brag about how much they spend on alcohol. I don't trust anyone with whom I speak. I have never known a place where so many people have fucked over so many other people. Just know that if you live in Troutdale and you're talking to me that I will believe that half of what you say is bullshit and the other half is a douchestravaganza. Oh, and that it's very likely that I hate you.

Happy Thanksgiving.

HOW... are you doing?

Thanksgiving: It's the one day of the year that I can completely gorge myself with food. Correction: it's the one day of the year that I can completely gorge myself with food while not feeling guilty about it.

But I will anyways. Because I'm Catholic. And fat.

Nonetheless, the true meaning of the day is not lost on me. Sure it's the day that families come together just long enough to remind us why we were happy to move out on our own. Sure it's the day that drinking champagne at noon is not okay, but almost a requirement for sanity. Sure it's the day that everyone with a cell phone has broadcast a "Happy Thanksgiving" message in some form or another to everyone in their address book (I'm up to 13 received texts as I write this).

But it's also important to remember your American history. Remember that Christopher Columbus and the Pilgrims came to this country in 1492, trying to get the Indians to sign their part of the Declaration of Independence and to put their initials near each one of the amendments (they had to push hard due to the primitive carbon copy paper used back then).

Unexpectedly, the Indians didn't sign or initial anything and instead replied with the battle cry of "Umgawa" and attacked the peaceful Pilgrims as they were still holding the paperwork, plates of turkey and assorted appetizers/dessert spreads. The Pilgrims scrambled to their Mayflower ship and grabbed their buckled hats and guns that looked like horns. The Indians, meanwhile, ran back to their village of tents, known by the Indian term Casino, and grabbed their bows, arrows, illicit drugs, and fire-water (freshly brewed by Chief Beatshiswife). Thus, the battle for freedom between the Pilgrims, led by Columbus, and the Indians, led by a genetic predisposition for alcoholism, began.

This great battle, fought on what we now know as the First Thanksgiving, lasted only a couple of hours. Of course you know, that Team Pilgrims (as they called themselves at the time) emerged the victors. At battle's end, the Pigrims and Columbus feasted on turkey, potatoes, pasta, stuffing, and gnocchi. Some surviving Indians approached the feast and asked if there were any seats available for them. A pilgrim looked up from his plate, paused, and asked:

"Do you have a reservation?"

The Indians and the Pilgrims all laughed and laughed and then the frame froze and the end credits started rolling up the screen.

******

I like a happy ending. Speaking of which, I got a massage yesterday. No happy ending, but I think I fell in love. I always fall in love, though, when a woman sees me half naked and doesn't immediately vomit. I also got a hair cut yesterday. Shit, I'm starting to look human again.

******

I watched "No Country for Old Men" on Blu-Ray this week and realized that the film is, more or less, Terminator meets True Romance. The parallels are uncanny. I love all three movies, by the way. Blu-Ray, also btw, is awesome.

******

Alright, off to my pre-dinner nap.

Happy Thanksgiving.

gooch:out

Tales from the Help Desk...

LiLo Lesbo. Nice.

"What's your password?" I asked, as I needed to log into a customer's QuickBooks file and she was off to a meeting.

"Um, well, it's sort of embarrassing" she stuttered. I assured her that I'd heard plenty of bad passwords during the course of my career. It was true, and it's usually women with the offending p-dubs: "mensuck," "fuckmen," and "hatemyjob" have been a few that I can recall.

She divulged her password to me: "cock."

"cock?" I asked, more so to clarify if there were any capitalizations, numbers, or other variations of, um, "cock."

"Nope, that's it." She explained, as though she felt she had to, that "Cocke" was her last name growing up and that she always hated it. During the Womens' Movement, she announced (jokingly) at a family dinner that she wanted to change her name to "Cunte."

"That didn't go over well at all," she recalled.

Later in life, she changed her name to her Mother's Father's name.

With all of the explanation she had given, I was sort of stuck on the fact that her name used to be "Cocke" and yet she's a lesbian. A real-life-honest flannel-wearing honest to goodness lesbian. Can you imagine having the last name of something you hate? That'd be like my last name somehow being "Sobriety," "Exercise," or "Nutrition."

******

Big day for me today. First haircut in a while, first massage in a while, and soccer tonight. I vegged out last night. Despite my declaration that I only drink wine at home by myself, I fired up the Margarita factory in my cocina and watched the second half of "No Country for Old Men" while simultaneously playing one-way-fetch with my cat and a miniature tennis ball.

Woke up refreshed this morning. Off to work. Looking forward to the weekend and getting my bird-on.

goochout

Good Mninrog Enoyreve!

If it's on a Post-It, then it must be true.

I spent my blogging time commenting on Gregster's (Greg Moore) blog that I ran out of time doing my own posting. So, I figured I'd just post what transpired on the blogosphere this morning.

From Greg's post this morning:

Why am I still up? Oh, right - Cool Runnings is on TBS. I love that movie. Makes me cry every time they walk across the finish line, carrying their sled. John Candy being dead makes me sad, too.

Looking for some kleenex...

Gregsta Mon'

My comment regarding his post:

John Candy is dead, but he lives in all of us. He is alive when we watch too much hockey, drink too much booze, eat too much, and bang too many hookers.
Wait, the last one was Chris Farley.

The point is, John Candy's last name did him in. If you're named after something bad for you, you're already in trouble. This is why John Lee Hooker had sex with so many prostitutes*, Johnny Cash and Eddie Money had decent incomes, and Billy Prime Rib died of a heart attack at age 17.

And don't get me started on Lou Gehrig.

And don't get me started on Bill Gates who has an amazing home security
system, but his OS "Windows" (as in 'open') doesn't.

Don't be sad about John Candy. Grab a steak and an eight-ball** (wait, that was Belushi) and live the way you were meant to.

In your case... Mo(o)re.

*Completely made up

**An 1/8th ounce of cocaine

******

Here's what I worked on into the evening last night. It looks like a Dell opened up and vomited an extra hard drive and power supply. I'm actually cloning hard drives for an employee lottery of used office computers.

******

Have a wonderful day!

goochout.

Plum sauce, my favorite medium (dirty Thai food plates, circa this week).

Because you had a bad day...

Sing It!

Here's a story from the TMZ, click HERE

The Lord taketh, and then the Lord taketh away. Ha!

goochout

Good Morning, Sunshine!

Chilling at the crib this morning while getting some stuff done.

Got to sleep late last night. I did watch Entourage. Last night's episode featured Gus Van Sant. Eric goes to GVS's office and if you look closely, you can see that GVS is wearing a "Mary's Club" jacket. Mary's Club is the oldest strip club in Portland (Oregon) and Van Sant is from Portland. A little tribute from a Portland native. Nice.

goochout