the bigger the headache, the bigger the pillin'.

was going to do a wedding today up on rocky butte in what was expected to be a torrential downpour. the wedding was moved into the couples' apartment. this is good, because the thought of wearing my new suit in the rain before my 'dj' gig tonight did not enthuse me. I would have worn a full clear plastic parka/pant set to keep dry. i would have looked like an Italian family's couch.

off to marry some people.

goochout.

At the 11:11/Steppin' to the AM/Express Yourself

[Dr. Dre:]

Yo, man... There's a lot of brothers out there flakin' and perpetratin

But scared to kick reality.

[Ice Cube:]

Man, you've been doing all this dope producing.

You had a chance to show 'em what time it is...

[Dr. Dre:]

So, what you want me to do?

I'm working simultaneously on putting together music for an upcoming DJ gig (pretty much pushing 'play' on my equipment and letting it ride) and finishing up vows for a wedding. Both events are happening on the same day. This will be wedding number 7 in my officiating career.

I've broken the sixth wall. It's like the fourth wall, but a randomly pulled number of wall simply to explain that I've exposed the website to my Facebook profile. I felt that the bus blog was mainstream appealing enough to put it out there. The "laughing guy" made me feel something. I think you people call it "empathy" and "compassion." I won't bother looking those words up on wikipedia. I think being a pussy for the last couple of months has enabled me to develop... feelings.

Having said that, the video would have been funnier if I just started telling jokes so that the man appeared to be laughing at my material. Maybe my act of compassion would have been to make the man seem normal by giving him an excuse for laughing. Shit, I'm a humanifuckingtarian.

It's 6:53am as I write this. I've googled how to deal with my puffy eyes, pirated a shit ton of music, listened to Howard Stern, and wondered where my next meal will come from. I haven't grocery shopped in a while. I'm hungry, yet... I don't look hungry.

Ease back, white bitch. I don't play that.

goochout

I'm on a bus.

Sometimes I ride mass transit. Not a lot of people know this, but in the course of my goings on as a non drinking, book reading, celibate, rose smelling, midlife crises having mothereffer, I sometimes enjoy sitting on the bus for a relaxing hour or so commute to an office or jobsite in the morning.

Normally, these trips are in fact relaxing and uneventful, you know, like mass transit should be. Today, however, was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Maybe not "epic," but certainly noteworthy.



My delay/shitty start to the day was tempered by the fact that it wouldn't be as bad as this ladies' day.



100 blocks after the crash: Man who wouldn't shut his mouth, off the bus and talking to the cops. He was already late to meet with his parole officer (he'd mentioned that during his rants agains the woman). Asshole.

On the ride into town, our bus stopped. Suddenly, a slam against the back of the bus lurched us forward. We'd been rear ended. After the bus driver completed routine post-accident measures, I walked outside and checked it out. Some lady crashed her van into the bus. How the hell do you hit a parked bus? Fire engines, ambulances, cops, and significant delay were soon to follow. The next bus, packed with its usual riders and delayed by the traffic jam from our bus' incident, arrived. We were seated and made it about 100 blocks before an argument broke out.

It was two unstoppable forces: A black 20-year-old woman and a gay black man. Call me racist, sexist, whatever you want. You know I'm right. It was an unstoppable bitch meets an inanimate shithead (the names could be applied to either of the participants). She yelled at him for sitting too close, he yelled at her for insulting him. Neither one would move or shut the fuck up (despite other riders' repeated requests) until the cops showed up. Most of us on the bus were already 30 minutes delayed already. My fellow riders started yelling at the two that were already yelling. Lots of yelling. Bus stopped, cops arrived. Ultimately, I arrived at my destination an hour late.  

On the way home, on the MAX, a rider boarded. He commenced with a giggling fit that lasted the entire 30 minutes he rode the train. I feel bad posting this because he probably had tourettes. Or some shit. However, I'll pretend that he was drug addicted or something. There, I feel better.



On a side note, if I ever did stand up I'd give this guy free passes for life. I mean, he's a comedian's wet dream. Again, it's not nice to make fun of someone's affliction. It's okay to make fun of someone's addiction.

This is the word the Gooch.

Thanks be to Gallucci.*

Tri Met: See Where it Takes You... indeed.
goochout


*I'm going to hell.

gooch: the podcast #6 [repost]

[By request, and because the 'search' function on Blogger is, shall we say, fucked? (spoiler alert: yes, we shall): Here's a repost of the #6 podcast.]

Gooch plays three separate clips of his drunken phone calls/audio posts. Included are: Drunken morning after voice mail from Vegas, the morning after the Wedding in Silverton, Oregon, and the "Cunnilingus Interview" involving two strippers in a strip club dressing room.