I Heart Meghan McCain

Cleavagy cravings for a Father's attention make me happy.

John McCain was a tortured POW for like a year or some shit. I would endear waterboarding for two years if I could just have one Viagra and booze fueled night with a somehow muted (I just got my ball-gag back from the shop) eldest daughter of the presidential loser, Meghan McCain.

You see, John McCain: you lost your chance at the presidency to a black guy and your daughter lost all respect for you. What's next, guest appearances at Scores? Book signings of your daughter's first book: "Daddy Let Me Down and Now I Suck Cock on Film for Money... a Memoir."

Back to work.

goochout

Don't forget...

My acerbic witticisms and perfect spelling can always be found on the twitters (to the right). It's filler between blog posts. Like when I drink while I'm driving from one bar to the next. You see... analogies rock!

tuohcoog

Blast from the past...

My hoax death. I got in trouble with my family for this. If you Google me, this shows up...

http://www.pctechnw.com/goochonline/oregonianhoax.htm

I should take it down. I'm such a dick.

out

You know what I like best about this picture?

Kendra's complete silence.

Home is where the Gooch is.

After an hour delay and a missed opportunity for sex, I've driven my beastie Ford home from PDX, pulled the luggage out, poured a glass of wine, played with the cat, deviruses my computer (again), and will now check to see what bounty the DVR hath brought me.

Not before I empty this bottle of something red.

Vacation has done me some good. Truth be told, my life is a bit of a vacation compared to other people. I should recognize this more and adjust my lifestyle accordingly. Ah... I've become a self loathing underacheiving slacker. With a cat.

Confirmed this weekend: I am more interesting when I'm drunk. I blame raging Generalized Anxiety Disorder that keeps me from striking up even the most mundane conversations with strangers. I would rather fix a stranger's cell phone rather than actually talk to him. That happened.

Off to wine. Then bed. Salaam, minions.

goochout.

The Biggest Little Gooch in the World...

I'm in Reno as I write this. I just finished a workout; my futile attempt to offset the massive caloric intake I've endeavored in the last couple of days.

I'm at the Eldorado sponsored "Great Italian Festival." I come out to this event every year. It's a fun trip. However, I am the only single person among the group of family and friends, which makes me feel pretty awkward sometimes. I know it's hard to understand a couple having the opportunity to hang out with me and yet wanting to spend alone time together. There are plenty of things for me to do in Reno by myself: Drink, ogle chubby cocktail waitresses, gamble, masturbate while thinking about chubby cocktail waitresses, gamble more, and take naps.

I did get sexted for the first time ever while I've been down here. Perhaps that person could tell by the sound of my voice that I had a significant lack of porn in my room (the room and all charges go onto my Dad's credit card, I don't need him seeing a charge for "Anal Acrobats 14" or whatever on the check out bill).

So it's off to the shower for me then some more guinea-fest 2009 activities. Then the flight home. I miss my friends. And my cat. Because I'm, apparently, a codependent homo. I guess.

Peace.

goochout.