Mortal Douchebag

Mortal Kombat's latest rendition of Sonya Blade on the left, and who fucking cares on the right.

I spent the better (and by "better," I mean all) part of the evening cleaning my living room, putting up lighting, programming a remote, and reconnecting cat-chewed speaker wires. I found out that my security camera totally fucks with my remote light system, so the camera has got to go. That means when girl scouts or Jehovah's witnesses show up at my door, I might accidentally answer and violate many, many restraining orders. Fuck, this ankle bracelet itches.

A little buzzed. I rewarded my efforts with Taco Bell, vodka, and Mortal Kombat. Yes, I've regressed to the life of John Gallucci: age 20. Fuck, have you seen the new Sonya (from Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe)? She apparently got implants since MKII. I would eat Army rations off of her stomach.

I'm buzzed. I'm going to sleep. Out.

Gooch in Wonderland

I love ramekins. The little cups in which condiments are served in fancy-ish restaurants captivate me. I made a Twitter/Facebook update that stated simply: "I steal ramekins." Someone who works at a restaurant that uses ramekins protested, because I (and idiots like me) am the reason he runs out of ramekins and had to use the "to-go" ramekins. I can sympathize... I hate the plastic ramekins. They don't look as nice and don't have the weight necessary to stay upright during a vicious dipping session. You could use that last sentence in its entirety as a way to describe dating an anorexic girl.

Ha.

I responded with the following little free-write, which isn't that spectacular, but serves nonetheless as content on this blog.

It's restauranteurs' fault for using opaque to-go containers. That's my #1 tool in ramekin smuggling. Ceramic ones from Claim Jumper, steel ones from Roadhouse. I love the little bastards. If I played D+D... my name would be Ramekin. I want to open a specialty kitchen supply place called "RameKing." "You want a glass ramekin? Sorry, we're out, but John over at Rameking probably has some. They have tons of ramekins there. I don't know where he gets them, but he also sells used opaque to-go containers. He's weird."

Last night, I stole one of those little fuckers from Roadhouse. I totally jacked that shit because I wanted the horseradish sauce. I wanted the au jus as well for my leftover prime rib, but that would just make a mess. I'm such a pussy, too, because I wanted to steal both ramekins, but was afraid that TWO missing ramekins might have raised suspicion. Then what? I get my ass kicked? I should go back tonight for that little sauce-holding bastard. Little wide mouthed shot glasses. Little cereal bowls for anorexics. Fancy liquid medicine cups. So adorable! I just want to put them in my pocket and take them home with me. Which, as you've gathered, I do.

goochout.

To the tune of Lady Ga Ga's "Bad Romance" 
 
Ra Ra RaRaRa
Ra Ra RaRaRa
Ra Ra Ra Ra Ramekin
 
You hold my au jus
You hold my bleu cheese
You hold my ketchup so I don't have to squeeze
A big bottle
 
RaRaRa a bit bottle... [getting too stupid, you get the idea].

The Gooch Locker:

From Star Trek (2009). If she gave me you gonorrhea, would the discharge still be green?

My Crackaz and my Bitchez:

I think "Gallucci-rigged" should be in some sort of dictionary. Webster's, Urban, I don't care. It should just be there to describe succintly the performance of some necessarily unorthodox means to fix a problem. The kind of fix where you look at it and say: "damn, that worked?" Followed by "damn, that worked."

Trying to fight my recent urges to overeat. I ordered a low carb bento from a place today. I mean, they call it "low carb" and then cover it in teriyaki sauce. Whatever. I'm also trying not to drink Diet Pepsi (my fucking life force) or coffee (I want to fucking beat my head into a wall right now) in an effort to decaffeinate myself and make myself a little less high strung. I'm also not hitting the booze for a bit. I'm all about self improvement. Oh, and using condoms.

Knowing me, after a few days of the above described abstinence,  come Wednesday or so I'll be having uprotected sex with a stripper while drinking a spanish coffee and injecting corn syrup into a vein. Because while some people fall off their wagons, I run mine off a fucking cliff.

I loved the most recent Star Trek movie. Totally kicked ass. Superman II: The Richard Donner Cut is coming to my mail box via Netflix tomorrow. Should be pretty dope.


goochout.