I've worked my ass off for the last few days. I personally moved 36 computers, monitors, mice, keyboards, and peripherals from three offices to one consolidated office for a company. On Friday I worked 18 hours straight of manual labor. At 2am I found myself pushing a cart load of monitors thinking that Christ had it better when he was carrying his own cross. Where's Mel Gibson when I need him. The Passion of the Gooch... indeed.

Fuck it, I'm tired, going to bed.

GOOCH:out

What the fuck. It's midnight? I'm in my neon lit office working on the same laptop for about six hours (two billable) merely for the sake of learning and troubleshooting. It's a good thing, I'd probably be drunk right now. My drunken antics at night yield better stories than my tech support antics. I'm watching the Ashlee Simpson show right now. I'm actually going to have to work eight-hour days starting Thursday through Monday.

Now that I have real couches in my living room, I've lost the excuse to get girls to watch television upstairs in the bedroom because you couldn't sit on the futon for more than ten minutes at a time withour incurring injury or at least having your ass fall asleep. It's the end of an era:

IF YOU'RE WATCHING THIS TV AT NIGHT, YOU'LL PROBABLY BE WATCHING IT IN THE MORNING.

Speaking of my mattress, I need to get another one. I don't think you can just throw away my old one. it'll have to be burned or something. God, the fumes from the lube (silicon and water based), scented massage oils, and the pheromones alone might cause an air quality advisory.

I've been watching a lot of television lately. A lot of commercials about hounding the fuck out of your kids during their free time to keep them from drugs and alcohol. Hey, parents, I've got a tip to keep kids off drugs: Lock your liquor cabinet, get your bong off of the coffee table, and hide your fucking coke better.

Also on the TV tip: Sunday night I watched King of the Hill and Simpsons. KoH was about an overbearing, obnoxious Hispanic gentleman who gets in a fight with his wife and somewhat forces his stay at the Hill Household and imposes on their family. The Simpsons was about Homer becoming an ordained minister. Both plotlines paralleled episodes of my own life within the last eight months.

Drunk Gooch is the best: I was just cleaning out the kitchen a bit and found a 7-11 sack with two hot dog boxes, a twinkies wrapper (you fat fuck), a Maxim Magazine and a Rock Star energy drink. I don't remember purchasing any of this stuff. The Maxim and Rock Star came in handy tonight. What a pleasant surprise. Drunk Gooch needs his own credit card, though.

I'm in a really good mood right now. I know it's artificial, probably from the caffeine I just consumed. I'm supposed to go on "stabilizing" drugs to keep my moods normal. I'm supposed to avoid coffee and alchohol, which is like taking an ice-pick to the Bubble-Boy's life giving plastic shell. I'm fucking freaking out. If I really start to freak out, I'm going to hire Rodney Gooch to assassicate me. The only cool ways to die are to be assassinated, or to die while pulling kids out of a burning orphanage. I'm likely going to die from an untreated case of syphilis because I was too lazy to open up my health insurance packet. Not a cool way to go, but if it's good enough for Al Capone... what the fuck, right?

I thought we were invincible. But now I know that the things that people in love do to each other, they remember. And if they stay together, it's not because they forget. It's because they forgive.

CNN.com - Hoaxer targets army wife with false death call - Feb 22, 2005

CNN.com - Author Hunter S. Thompson commits suicide - Feb 21, 2005

Holy fucking shit. YMike in California called me and asked if I'd seen any news. I thought he was going to tell me about Sandra Dee passing away at 63, after which I'd call him a fag. Wow, shocking.

Meanwhile, I've been working a lot as usual. Trying to maintain a relationship... counseling in the near future. Did help my girlfriend's kid urinate into a urinal for the first time. I held him by the shoulders and aimed him, which is the exact technique that my friends have used When I'm too drunk to piss on my own but not to honorably pass out.

Victory is ours!

I traded my badass leather zero-gravity recliner for my Mom's furniture set. My living room is looking less bachelor like, with the exception of the Scarface and Goodfellas posters.

Big shout out to Rodney Gooch, my crazier and blacker fraternal twin brother:

Ice Cube is playing the next XXX? Quite the departure from Vin Diesel. I mean, I'm the biggest Cube fan out there, but what does XXX denote anyway? Ice Cube's T-shirt size? No one with a build like mine should be an action hero in the movies.

Meanwhile, I'm going nuts with this cold. My fever is gone, Theraflu is God. Anyway, Fat Tuesday tonight. It's the one night a year where I can live like I normally do, but with an excuse.

GOOCH:I got nothing

I'm sick. Again. I was sick some three weeks ago. It's embarrassing. I was at an office during my first illness and they made a big deal about it. They followed me around and wiped down everything with disinfectant. So I was there today, sweating like a fat guy at a party after someone asks "who ate the last pizza" and discretely wiping my face of the sweat pouring off of my nose and chin. Last night, my girlfriend asked to take my temperature to which I argued that I felt fine and am on so much Tylenol and Theraflu that I'm sure my fever is down. One hundred-two degrees. This makes sense, because before any medicine I was laying in bed by myself having conversations with people that weren't really there. Yet, they were the best conversations I've had all week.

I was just sick less than a month ago. People with AIDS have better immune systems than me. I'm living healthier than I have in years and I'm constanly in a state of getting over some fucking virus. Get me the number for Kevorkian.

I've got a fever... and the only prescription is more cowbell.

gooch:out