Word? Word.

I'm eagerly anticipating the removal of the old and the installation of the new. Instead of spending a single dime to repair the used-yet-expensive washer/dryer combo set I purchased two years ago, I'm going ahead and replacing it with a new front loader set. Domesticity must have set in, because I only looking forward to one thing, and that is doing laundry. I thought my mattress was somehow becoming firmer, but it was just my unwashed sheets after nearly two months of not being washed.

I might even have a day off today. I mean, if no one calls, I will stay here and clean the house.AND FUCK!

I had the wrong outlet for my new dryer. "The salesman should have told you, man..." the delivery guy explained.  I expressed my thoughts on the situation:

"Well, fuck him. I waited three days for this shit and I could have done this before you guys got here and now fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck."

So with all of my home electrical prowess (I fucking shocked the living fuck out of myself replacing a 110v outlet, this 220v/50amp situation was expected to kill me) I replaced my outlet and called for the delivery guys to bring my olfactory salvation back to my crib. Por Favor.

Anyways. Back to the lab.

goochout

...but I still reserve the right to be a shithead.

I slept horribly last night. I figure I got three hours sleep. Caffeine could only take me so far. I came home early, snoozed a bit, and now I'm back to run some errands/fix some computers, watch some Netflix. I'm a simple man. At least I'm trying to be simpler.

I started writing a self help book. Entitled "Self Help," It was basically me yelling at myself and telling myself how to make my life better. But, instead of "myself," it would appear I was telling you how to improve your life. It would've worked well but it became too mean spirited. I was coming off as so self loathing that I think others' feelings would get hurt as well. There's a project there, I just need to reboot it.

I'm getting kicked out of the office. Off to self improve.

JG

Moment of Truth

I mean... I officiate weddings. I've done eight. That's me, on the right. Eight weddings and still I'm seen as a shithead.

I'm a nice, vulnerable person with myriad insecurities that finds validation in trying to make other people happy through jokes or fixing computers. This website and a vast majority of my Facebook/Twitter posts are satirical in nature and not meant to convey any sort of reality. This website and, more recently Facebook/Twitter are like my "scratch pad" of jokes. As soon as something pops in my head that I feel is remotely funny, I post it. I'm not working on a stand up set. I'm not doing anything other than purging random thoughts into "The Cloud."

I feel what you people call "sadness" when I meet someone and I have to spend time explaining away things I've written. I know it's entirely my fault, but still, no one likes being pre judged.

Thank you, and Good Night.

John Gallucci

Star Bores

Kanucka Heads:

The Millennium Falcon, aka my Ford Escape is going into the shop today. It's developed a bit of a transmission fluid leak. And by "a bit," I mean a hemorrhaging so severe that I looked up the word "hemorrhaging" so that I could spell it correctly because no other word accurately conveys the situation.

This cramps a bit of my weekend. I had places I wanted to go. I'm so comfortable with the reliable piece of shit (180,000 miles on the Ford, which is like 800,000 miles to a Japanese car) - read: it's paid for, that I don't feel like looking for another vehicle.

So, weekend logistics are in a tumble.

There's nothing good about this post. I kind of like the photo of the sticker, which I'm assuming depicts a hot chick giving birth to a Ford logo. Sideways. Ouch.

I'm out. Happy weekend, fuckers.

G.

enilnohcoog - forever

If I say my name backwards, it sends me into the 3rd dimension. Which, apparently, is the catalyst of shitty movies since 3D has made its gimmicky comeback.

I hate going to the movies. People in public have no sense of etiquette. There's no empathy or thought that maybe one's talking or cell phone glow might interfere with others' enjoyment of the film they paid way too fucking much to watch.

The last movie I saw in the theater was the abortion of a war/alien movie titled: Battle: Los Angeles. Atrocious dialogue, shitty CG, plot holes... I actually felt sorry for the actors for having to deliver the lines they did. Embarrassing. Don't see it. Don't even pirate it. From my tweet:

I guess one way to battle video piracy is to make movies no one would download. Battle: Los Angeles... you sucked.

I haven't seen "127 Hours" yet, but that didn't stop me from tweeting about it:

If the boulder was a drunk chick and the canyon was my Dad's basement, then 127 hours would pretty much represent my 90s. 1 day ago

I haven't seen it, but "127 Hours" sounds like a 93 minute allegory of the "coyote ugly" joke.

The second tweet got the least feedback, but I thought it was the most clever. I mean, to link an old joke to a contemporary true story and feature film, well that's genius. If you ask me.

From Urban Dictionary: Coyote Ugly is when you wake up next to the woman you had sex with the night before,and you realize in your sober state that she is the UGLIEST woman you have ever seen, and you realize she is laying on your arm. Instead of waking her up to move, you chew off your arm to free yourself.

Hilarity!

Back to work.

goochout

Post 2000.

Two Thousand posts to this blog. Originally hosted on a web of various free web spaces available to my parents' two Teleport dial-up internet accounts, this site currently rests firmly on the Blogspot servers where all mediocre blogs go to become obscure.

I have not a lot to say on this landmark post.

Of course, lack of content has never stopped me from typing away. Having said that, I've achieved a few milestones this year. I've hit eight years of self employment (it's a lot like unemployment, just busier). I'm now typing my two thousandth blog post. From the end of last year through the beginning of this year I went six months without drinking (or Xanax).

I've found a renewed interest in home and work. I'm a new man. I just need to lose about 50 pounds. Christ... I've got a physical tomorrow and I feel... you know when you show up to class and you find out that the final is that day and you had all term to study and you didn't so you know you're entirely fucked and probably going to flunk? That's how I feel about my physical tomorrow. I'm about to go shopping for mumus.

I'm going to get back into the MMA stuff. I liked it. I like the people. It's a reminder that 40 minutes on an elliptical does not make for a true workout. I also like punching and kicking things.

I'll have to do something exciting and write about it for another "2000th" post. How many tries will it take for me to get a good 2000th post? The suspense is underwhelming.

jg

I'm not actually getting married on 11/11/11

I keep saying that I'm going to get married on November 11 of this year due to my numerological fascination with the numbers 1111. I've no concrete plans to get married on 11/11/11. I'm not currently dating anyone at the moment. It's just a mediocre joke I keep perpetuating on this site and some people read it and (understandably) are wondering where their "Save The Date" refrigerator magnets are. Or some shit.

I'm out.

G.