Sorry if the last few entries offended anyone, if not simply for the language. I've been a wreck the last week with working, moving, strip club DJing. I slept 12 hours last night. My drive home last night was that of a man who looked at going to bed and sleeping in the way some people are eager to go do something fun. I was driving 50mph down Halsey popping Seroquels like skittles and thinking about the joy of sleeping and not having to wake up for anything.

Fucking bliss.

So I worked today, working tonight at the strip club, and will work tomorrow. I guess making money is augmented by having no time to spend it. Beach vacation next weekend. Pretty stoked.

Dieting has been a struggle for me and I've put myself on a program starting this last Monday. Lost 4 pounds so far. A drop in the bucket, but I'll get there.

Wow, what a lame blog. I'll try and think of something funny to write as opposed to "What I did this week by John Gallucci age 31."

GOOCH:lame and out.

[LOGS/HOME] 2/09/2006 02:46:10 PM Comment:
im sad.. you'll fuck her??? what about me???

Oof... that was one crazy blog. It's a seldom occurence that one is able to read their drunken blog and garner the same intrigue as, well, one of you who reads it for the first time. Where do I come up with this shit? Oh, man... it's bizarre being me some time. Honestly, I wouldn't trade places with anyone right now, except for someone that got to sleep four hours ago.

And yes, Amanda I'll fuck you. How about something more romantic than that though... like "make like to you?"

GOOCHOUT

I find the following truths to be self evident: #1: I'm drunk. #2: fuck off. #3 lick my balls.

There, with all that said, I'll continue:

If I asked you out tonight for dinner or God knows what... I was trying to get laid.

#2: Jesus... Teena, Quit bringing guys with mullets around you and yes... I''ll fuck you.

#3: fuck it; im drnmk\.... goochout

Gregster scooped me already on his website, but I/we are in fact moving the bulk of our home offices to office space rented from my cousin's business down the hall. We have a tattoo parlor as a neighbor, a bar downstairs, and a 7-11 across the street.

Location, location, location, indeed. I've got my crap all moved in and my home office is looking like any home's den, if that den happens to have a server or two.

Also... I haven't slept in 40 hours as I write this. Some time this morning I happened to catch the last episode of Knight Rider on SciFi. In the last scene of the last episode Michael Knight is standing on the beach and he decides to run on the sand to his car. I found it amusing that he ended one series the same way he started his next: Running on the beach. True story.

UPDATE: (FromTV.com... yeah, I looked it up) This was originally intended to be the season four finale, and a possible series finale, but "Voodoo Knight" replaced it, this episode is wildly accepted by most Knight Rider fans as being the "real final episode", as it gave Michael Knight's story arc of finding an identity in life a decent, gratifying conclusion.

I just set up two 19" wide screen monitors side by side. The cursor goes between the two monitors and I have two desktops on which to work. You can only imagine how small my penis is that I'm compensating with this kind of setup.

I just got done working out for the first time in a couple weeks. Felt good. I'll admit, the Valpolicella wine I'm drinking is not much of a post-workout drink; but fuck it, I'm Italian.

Speaking of Italy, I got about 50 pictures of Sara Rue emailed to me from a SR fan in Italy with grandiose wishes for her 27th birthday. I think it's been about a year since the Sara Rue camp threatened to sue me for the domain name I purchased (sararue.com). Indeed, they'll Rue the day they threatened me with legal action. You heard me... start ruing!

I guess there will probably be a lot of thirty-something fat guys like myself trimming down after Chris Penn was determined to have died of natural causes. Natural causes? I call bullshit. Every time some fat fuck drops dead before the age of forty-five and they call it "natural" I say they're full of shit. Die at 80 of natural causes. Die at 40 weighing three hundred pounds with a coke straw by your head and your wallet being pulled out of your pocket by some fifty dollar whore.

I'm not saying this is how Chris Penn died, but it sounds pretty goddamned probable. According to MSNBC: "Penn had suffered from an illness and used multiple drugs in the past," said David Smith, a Los Angeles County coroner’s spokesman. Smith declined to elaborate on the illness, but I'm guessing it was fatfuckitis. I've been a sufferer for years. Oh well, rest in peace Chris. Maybe in Heaven you won't have to be known only as the younger brother of Oscar winner and arrogant prick Sean Penn. I mean, no one that fucking cocky gets to go to Heaven, right?

Where am I going and what am I doing in this handbasket?

goochout.

Someone recently posted a comment about a post in the archives asking "who's the skank?" That skank happens to be a good friend of mine named Nikki, with whom I've been a friend since 1992 or 93.

I have a fear of needles and blood - specifically my own blood. So, when I get my blood drawn every month to check the levels of drug in my system to combat my bipolar disorder, I get a little nervous.

One of my nervous ticks is that I start to crack jokes to break the tension. The routine goes as follows: A nurse sits me down in a chair and has me outstretch my arm. Every time we do this she has another nurse come in because it's hard to find a vein in my arm. The second string nurse wasn't in today so I was going to have to go to another office.

Fuck.

The anticipation and waiting for that fucking needle to plow into my arm was killing me. I start spouting off: "You guys should hire a reformed heroine addict to be your full time phlebotomist. I mean... you're a nurse in an office and you can't draw blood from my arms yet a heroin junkie can find a vein in the dark under a bridge in the rain. I then shoot off onto another topic: Do you think that the telekinesis people on those shows where people bent spoons with the power of their mind were just really good heroin addicts just showing off? I mean... why was it always spoons?"

The nurse just shrugged me off as she left me alone in a neighboring office. I probably pissed her off, but I hates me a syringe... I tell you what!