At the 11:11: True Gooch Stories...

I was driving up West Burnside today when I noticed a girl walking on the sidewalk. More dangerous than talking on the phone or texting, I engaged in a task that I probably do five or six times a day (I drive a lot): I stared at her.

I'm driving west, she's on the right hand sidewalk walking the opposite direction. As my eyes follow her, they run into a few obstacles. a street sign, the Range Rover rolling alongside me in the lane to my right, the head of the driver in the Range Rover to my right. I noticed the driver fidgeted a bit... it was odd enough that in my peripheral vision he got my attention. It was then that I noticed that my eyefucking of a random girl wound up turning into my eyefucking of 90s alt-rock icon Art Alexakis, a Portland resident. At the next stop light, I noticed that he stopped a few car lengths back, I assumed as to stay out of my stalkers' gaze.

I felt like a total tool. My mid-commute slow motion daydream ended up being a socially awkward nightmare.

Picture of Art Alexakis

 

[Picture of girl walking down street not available]

At the 11:11

Interesting fun fact about me: I swing a bat left handed, I swing a golf club right handed, I kick right footed, I skateboard regular stance (right foot pushes), I bowl right handed, I throw darts left handed, I write on paper left handed, I right on chalk boards/vertical surfaces right handed, I dribble a basketball right handed, shoot a basketball left handed, shoot a gun left handed. The J.O.? Right handed.

None of the above activities am I actually good at, just an odd lack of favoritism among the left and right hemispheres of my brain. My ambidexterity means I'm mediocre at everything... with either hand/foot.

Get to sleep.

goochout

Forget Height/Weight ratio, BMI, Calipers, Etc...

...If you're holding the camera 7 inches above your head to take a picture, you've got a weight problem.

But who holds your camera?

Before you call me a dick, I'll have you know that I commission satellite photographers to take my Facebook pictures. It's the only way I can eliminate my double chin.

See what I did there? I made fun of myself to negate the dickness of my putdown. I'm not a pioneer in that art, just a genius at it.

gooch:out

You're going to call me a dick anyways, aren't you?

Damn I'm such a G... it's pathetic.

Minions.

I spent most of yesterday, one of the last beautiful and sunny days here in Portland, cleaning the house and playing video games. I was going to go for a run or at least a bike ride but put it off until today because it too was supposed to be nice.

Fail.

So now I'm inside, appreciating my cleaning from the day before. Being careful not to do anything productive. I'm watching the movie "Very Bad Things" because that's what I do when a bachelor party and/or Vegas in particular enters my sites. You know, the sites mounted on the rifle that is my average-on-a-good-day penis. Does anyone else think Cameron Diaz is the quintessential butterface? It's an issue I've grappled with for a while. Is killing a hooker a rite of passage? Is the reason I feel perpetually emasculated because I have yet to bury a dead stripper in a, well, anywhere? No, it has to be something darker than that.

Very Bad Things: Ari Gold is about to accidentally kill the hooker in the bathroom. I shouldn't be watching this. I should be watching "I Need That Record!" - a documentary on the impact of downloads and piracy on the independent record stores. Heh, me watching that movie would be like Hitler watching a documentary on the Holocaust.

GoochOut