Paging Dr. Schadenfreude

When you've had a bad day, or things just didn't go your way, peep this.

goochout.

She's out of your league.

You know those movies where the really nice but slightly unattractive guy has a really hot female best friend who always dates jerks and then at the end of the movie finds that the really nice but slightly unattractive guy was the one she was looking to be with the entire time?

That's most of my friendships. Not that I'm trying to date any of my female friends. Their friends, maybe. I do think that if you have a female friend that is attractive, it's natural to have platonic feelings switch over to something else. I think there's a much finer line between platonic and romantic love than some people realize. Alcohol is great at diminishing that line.

However, I've imagined what it would be like to date one of my female friends. I created an honest simulation in my brain (the petri dish of social engineering) that yielded results that reinforced the notion that it's a bad idea. First off, I treat my female friends like guy friends. They know pretty much everything about my disgusting relationship past. In most cases, I know theirs. So, if you intimated to a chick friend about the time in Thailand you got a rim job from a girl at a Bangkok brothel only to find out she was actually a fifteen-year-old boy. Believe me, that will come up in a fight if you actually get into a relationship with said friend. I mean, think of all the things you and any female friend have told each other. Are those things you would ever want a significant other to know? They say that honesty is the best policy in relationships. They are wrong. "They" are often very wrong. I, however, am usually dead-the-fuck-on.

Sobriety (and gallons upon gallons of taurine infused energy drinks) has given me a new sense of clarity. The first effect that alcohol has on the brain is decision making. That's why it seems like a great idea to drive a sports car that you can barely walk to in a bar parking lot at 2am. The preceding should not be seen as an admonishment of drinking. Or alcoholism for that matter. If I get laid, it's 90% likely that it's a result of someone else's bad decision.

I've put the Christmas tree up. It's finally the season. Happy Holidays.

goochout.

[some song lyric or a name someone called me]

(Anatomy of a Post)

[random provocative/hot chick picture here]

[salutation involving whatever noun pops in my head. "minions," "followers," "rebels," etc.]

[half assed attempt at content that will be generally interesting to people that don't know me. Ideas that are too foul for social media are relegated to this blog. I think people that know me have moved from this to Facebook and Twitter for my personal goings on. Which is great, because I feel like I can rub out masturbation jokes without worrying about family members peeping in.

Get it? "rub out?"

This is the basement. Whatever coherent thought about anything that comes to mind gets put in semi-long form on this page. Like my cock: average sized and not life changing.

Posts at 11:11 am/pm are amazingly irrelevant. A good rule of thumb: The hotter the chick, the weaker the content.]

[ending quote, usually Ice Cube or Dr. Dre. Or me. Because I'm gangster.]

[signature: usually "goochout," or a derivative]



Really? a cock joke? [if I think I wrote something stupid or a joke that wasn't funny, I sometimes don't delete it. Instead, I address it here with a character called "self hating/berating self." I do it with smaller type. It's a comedic device sometimes referred to as a "call back."]

I'm Mr. Brightside

Clamjammers:

slowly gearing up for a spectacular fat/carb/sodium filled thanksgiving. If charities can feed the homeless for $.69 a day, why the fuck can't I find a decent lunch in town for under $10? I'm going to hit up the missions with a couple buckskies... fuck, $5 should let me cater the office xmas party. The soup kitchens need to market themselves better.

Hey, look, it's Christina Hendrick's ass. Because, every seven years a fat chick comes around and reminds us that we, well, like big asses. Kate Winslet, Tyra Banks, Raquel Welch, Barbara Bush... all sex symbols that make tapping a big ass somehow some sort of paradigm shift. Oh, and yeah, that's an animated gif.

I decided that I'm going to go into an actual music store. I won't buy anything, but geez, what happens in a music store anymore? Are there just terminals attached to iTunes? I mean, half a million Beatles albums sold on iTunes so far. I would think that anyone that gave a shit about the Beatles would already own or have pirated Beatles albums. Are people too lazy/unaware that you can rip CDs to iTunes?

The bigger the headache, the bigger the pillin'.

goochout

By the power vested in me... by the internet...

As some of you know, I got internet ordained a while back and have performed a few weddings over the last eight years or so.

Last night, two of my best friends got married and I was given the honor of officiating their wedding. I had a feeling that I might have to give a speech, or at least be given the opportunity to give one. I wanted to be prepared. So, in addition to the vows, I wrote a speech that I ended up delivering last night. Since it's the most time I spent on writing something in a while, I'll post it here. There's some references you might not get. Like the bridesmaid speech she gave at Robin's wedding was actually a speech I wrote for her (from her point of view and in her voice) at her request four hours before the wedding because she had only written five words. You had to be there. Anyways...

Here's the speech:

I want to start off by saying “Nikki, you’re right.” This speech is not going to be nearly as good as your bridesmaid speech at Robin’s wedding.


Despite not being related in any way whatsoever, Nikki and I have formed a sibling type of relationship. Like a brother and sister, although Nikki would joke “sister and sister.” A while back, Nikki and I were at the movies and we saw the trailer for a movie called “Made of Honor” where the male best friend was to serve as a bride to be’s maid of honor. I turned to Nikki and told her not to even think about it. Nikki wasn’t interested in the novelty or the sentiment of having me stand by her at the altar. She thought it would be terrific opportunity to emasculate me. You may think I’m joking, but I’ll bet you that before the trailer was over, she’d already picked out a dress for me.

Like real siblings, Nikki and I have picked on each other for the last 17 years or so. The ferocity with which we attack each other resembles a UFC fight without the sportsmanship. We match up in verbal sparring sessions using words that I’m afraid to say. At least in front of Erich’s side of the family.

Since we’ve known each other all of our adult lives. Nikki and I have been friends when most of life’s important decisions are made. Relationships, career, education - every important crossroad in life – we’ve watched each other both succeed triumphantly and fail miserably at them over the years. Like good friends should: We’ve helped each other celebrate victories, and been there for each other during some sad times.

Of her successes, my proudest of Nikki are her beautiful and gifted daughter, her pursuit and achievement of her dental hygienist career, and her meeting and marrying a great guy. Probably the most genuine thing I’ll say all year is that I couldn’t be happier about who my best friend chose to marry. Erich’s the kind of guy that you would want to marry your sister. And today I feel like he did. Erich and Nikki, I love you both very much. May your lives be filled with love and happiness and me, occasionally, crashed on your couch.