A Mouth's a Mouth...

Brooke Hogan looks like she might have the same voice as Herman Munster. Like she'd be stamping her foot down and screaming "I'M A GIRL... I'M A GIRL... I'M A GIRL... BWAAAAAAH!" They should give her that same test they gave that Ugandan runner.

Out

Tweet/Facebook update that didn't make it::

I'm not going to pine for you while you pine for someone else, so I'm afraid you're going to have to ride the pine.

Fuck, I hate being fat. I have a calorie counter on my Palm Pre. I'm eating Egg Beaters and vegetarian sausages for breakfast. Low carb ketchup? I fucked it. Elliptical trainer, personal trainer... all so that I can remove "morbidly" from my obesity status.

It's a misguided effort. I mean, I think the heavier I was, the hotter chicks I got. I'm going over the records, the charts, solving for ex... yep: fatter equaled hotter.

John Gallucci and girlfriend: 2030

I am shying away from my Microsoft loyalty to recommend that everyone use Firefox. If you blog, fileshare, look at porn... Firefox is so much less likely to allow you to get infected with spyware/viruses. I've taken the Pepsi challenge. If you go to PirateBay.Org and start searching through pages, you will get infected. Firefox? You might get an annoying page redirect but the computer will not suffer permanent damage.

Does anyone read this site anymore, or is it just the stupid Facebook/Twitter phenomenon. Has my lust for a short term attention span audience sent readers elsewhere? (I haven't read the hit counter for this site lately, so I have no idea).

Off to work. Salaam, bitches.

gooch:out

Tiger's Wood

From my Facebook posts:

Has any girl in the history of girldom ever purchased a Playgirl magazine? I always thought that Playgirl was aimed at gay dudes who found themselves lonely at a 7-11 at 2am. That's probably the real demographic. Playgirl should call themselves Playboy* and put a Big Bite coupon on the cover.

Playgirl Bosses looking into 'Tiger Woods' Photos

Twilight: New Gooch

I decided to abstain from going out this week. Last week, hitting the bars equaled late night adventures. I mean... every night last week was fun, interesting, exciting, shameful, and expensive. At least two of those nights I would not take back.

So this week, I'm staying home. I've accomplished some things: applied for a passport, done November's invoicing, paid a few bills.

I'm home... watching The Biggest Loser because god forfucking bid I watch another South Park or Family Guy for all the money I spend on television. I should say home every night and watch three hours of television to get my money's worth.

The Biggest Loser. Exploiting fat people for ratings. I can dig it... the stories are inspirational even if a lot of the emotion is contrived. The hostess, Alison Sweeney, has all of the genuine feel and personality of my flaccid cock. I mean, she's sort of hot in an approachable way. If she was in a bar, I'd drink until she found me attractive. Then I'd have sex with her.

And holy fuck... If that Jillian chick yelled at me while working out the way she yells at the fat fucks struggling on treadmills, I'd have a fully erect four-inch-boner during the 10 minutes I'd last while jogging. She'd ask "are you finished?" and I'd reply "on the treadmill or in my shorts?" She's hot and mean. I like a girl that treats me like shit.

Obviously.

I'm on glass #2 of a $3.00 bottle of wine. It tastes just like a $4.00 bottle of wine. Bargain.

I've never dug the super skinny chicks. I know it's cliche, and it's something that a lot of guys say to fuck fat chicks, but it's true. I just saw Keira Knightley in a Chanel commercial and I'm pretty sure I could see her back ribs. Not sexy. If she turned me on, I could probably jerk off to a 1984 issue of National Geographic featuring Ethiopia.

I hurt my neck Thursday. I haven't lifted or worked out too much since then. Really, really bumming me out. I'm going to wash a Tylenol PM down with this last sip of vino and call it a night.

Gooch:Out

The Goochberries Taste Like Goochberries!

Tiger Woods fucked a girl that still uses MySpace? Nasty.

I DJed again last night. This time I figured out that the "automix" that Virtual DJ's software uses makes less mistakes than I do. So, I plugged in my new disco ball, set up the music, pushed 'play' and drank my own weight in wine. I'm more of a computer guy than a DJ, I've decided.

If it seems like I ignore the site, don't forget about the "tweets" on the right. It's a shame that the fact that almost all of my tweets use exactly 140 characters goes unnoticed. That's almost like haiku precision. Also, they're seldom about me personally. I try to keep everything I write more about pop culture or any shit unrelated to me. The secret to any successful blog is to remember that no one really gives a shit about you or what you're doing or what you've been up to.

That won't stop this post from being written. I've been on Facebook a lot. Facebook serves two purposes: to keep you posted on what your friends are up to, and to see how absolutely fucking illiterate your friends are. I mean there's "to," "too," and "two" - they're not interchangeable. People have no idea... I don't think they know there's more than one version. They just picked one "to" at the age of twelve and ran with it into adulthood.

I'm skipping around a bit; I apologize. I think I drank until my brain became smooth last night. The night before I stayed in and watched TV. I saw a Dane Cook comedy routine. He said something to the effect of "This girl was so nasty that her crabs had herpes." That's funny.

Going to try not to drink this week. Lay low, get shit done. I always say that and then some "special" event materializes. It seems the criteria for "special" events are pretty lax. I need to work on that a bit.