Wait, what?

What have I done lately:

After a successful (read: I didn't hock my plane ticket for some gambling scratch and road coke) trip to Vegas, I slipped back into Portland obscurity. I prefer Vegas obscurity to Portland obscurity because, well, it's Vegas.

I like Vegas for reasons other than most. I mean, I like clubs, gambling, good food and soaking the front of my shirt with vodka and stripper glitter. Sure, I like swimming pools with live DJs and drink specials at 1pm. But there's more to it than that.

I mean, not much more. We (girlfriend and I) stayed in New York New York where, once we stepped out of the elevator, a world of food and retail awaited us. We never had to leave the climate controlled confines of our hotel. Ben and Jerry's, Haagen Dazs, gourmet pretzels, a Nathan's Hot Dog restaurant, an arcade, a roller coaster... they can even put your picture in three dimensions inside a crystal cube. HOW THE FUCK DO THEY DO THAT? New York New York is a magical place. Word the hotel has started construction on a themed rollercoaster using two miniature fiberglass747s passing through miniature buildings has proven untrue. In a related story, plans for a similarly themed nearby hotel called "Iraq Iraq" have been scrapped. That sucks, because I was looking forward to getting my drink on at the Allah Ack-Bar and Grill.

Wakka wakka... indeed.

And I love Starbucks. I know that their coffee grounds are the largest example of profitable mediocrity to ever have hot water run through it. I know that the food is only good due to its convenience and pairing with coffee. Truth be told, I love watching Starbucks employees pretend like they're genuinely concerned about my day and overall well being. I have a lot of friends... none of them can match the sincerity (albeit feigned) of a barista's inquiries into how my work day is. I reciprocate, and of course I'm informed every day is a great day at Starbucks. It should be. Water filtered through dirt at the same price-per-ounce as black tar heroin should make any corporation and their employees just fucking ecstatic.

Speaking of work, I need to feed my own little S-Corp some billable hours. Off to the races. Peace in.

Gooch out.

2:50pm I've edited this post at least four times now.

Ch Ch Ch changes

Before

After

 I haven't watched the porn in a while. Can someone explain to me what the hell happened to Carmella Bing? Oh, and if you give me any of that "real women have curves" bullshit about the atrocity pictured above I will throw you out the fucking window. Or, if you say that and  you look like the picture on the right, I'll get four of my friends to help me throw you out the fucking window. And I'll get a bigger window.

Something was getting funky with the old Blogger profile, so I picked this earthy layout. It's kind of nice/refreshing. It looks like the establishing shot of a douche commercial. How apropos.

I fixed the tweet gadget to the right. Seriously, I love tweeting. I like the entire process of thinking of something that I find amusing and editing the hell out of it to fit 140 characters. It's my crossword puzzle... my sudoku. I sit there, changing words, cutting out unnecessary parts, and trying to make sure that what I think was funny still comes out of the final edit/tweet. Also, the tweets (most of which I do from my phone while driving on the freeway) simulcast to both this page and my Facebook. This means that I reach around 1000 people, which is more than I would reach when I wrote for print media a while back.

Which reminds me: I wanted to write for print media per my New Year resolutions. There used to be so many print publications. I remember going to a restaurant downtown and you'd grab four or five different rags to peruse while you ate your Speedo Burrito (RIP Macheesmo Mouse). Now it's Portland Tribune, Willamette Week, the Mercury, and that's about it. No Oregon Cycling, no Oregon Comic News, no Jam Magazine. Read: No one that would publish me. I do have a line on one publication, but I have to plan thoroughly before I approach.

I'm going for a run this morning. I don't run as much as I should, considering I have a 5K to run in the next month or so. I should be running three times a week and as of late I've run about three times in August. I'm in trouble.

I'm getting very crotchety as I approach forty. I need to stay off of the Facebook. I'm finding a lot of stuff annoys me when it shouldn't. One thing that I find a lot of in real life and on social media is the [REDACTED]. Had a bunch of stuff typed but found that it may be personally inflammatory to some people. I may be crotchety, but I also have some discretion.

I gotta run...


goochout.

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors...

God does, in fact, have a sick sense of humor.

Sarah Cheek

I mean, to have the last name of "Cheek" when you have a full facial birthmark on the side of your face is fucked up. It's like a fat kid with the last name of "Tubb," or me if I had the name "Smallpenis" (which I'm pretty sure is what "Gallucci" translates to in Italian). For Chrissakes... I have a smaller (albeit hairier, I'm assuming) birth mark on my shoulder and I was tormented as a kid for having that. Sarah Lynn Cheek, 34 (pictured above), was arrested for leaving a five-year-old in her care outside of a bar while she had a few drinks. Anyone else should get the book (and a brick) thrown at them. This woman should just get a warning. I would have a vodka I.V. just to deal with the adolescent torment that she certainly endured. As it stands, I simply inject myself with Jack Daniels once every morning with a diabetes kit I probably should be using for, you know, insulin.

Full Story: HERE

goochout.

ping

Hey, how's it going?

Officiating a wedding this Saturday at Oxbow park. I hope I fit into one of my suits for the event. I just got a call that I may be DJing the wedding as well. My first combo gig. I've waited my entire 24 month DJ career for this chance.

 I've been substituting breakfast and lunch with freshly made juice consisting of kale, lemon, apple, celery, cucumber, and ginger. Then I eat dinner. You're supposed to fast for ten days on nothing but the juice, but social engagements make it so I'm eating in the evening.

I'm also training to run a 5K that I'm signed up for in October. I've actually run five kilometers on a flat track (35 minutes) and I've run on a 2.2 mile nature trail with a long hill that seems to kick my ass. The fact that I've actually run non stop for 35 minutes blows my mind. I get winded driving for 35 minutes.

Not a lot else to report. Low blood sugar and lack of alcohol has kept the tweets and the funny at bay.

I'm out.

gooch

If she parties this hard after her kid disappears...

She absolutely has to be good in bed.

Casey Anthony: Not Guilty?

Remember that's not the same as "she didn't do it."

I blew up Twitter today with some jokes that really might as well have been rehashed OJ Simpson jokes. Check out Twitter on the right.

My Twitter simulcasts to Facebook and the joke I wrote about the Sports Memoribilia was sort of copied and pasted all over the place. I mean, if you're a Facebook "friend" of mine then I'm going to see that you copied and pasted something I wrote and, while money is not at stake here, you should at least attribute the quote to the person that wrote it.

I've only said something once because the offender is a notorious douche that needs to be called out on shit in public because he's such a dick. Otherwise, when someone posts something on Facebook as their own something that I have written and people compliment that person on how funny they are or asking "where do you come up with this stuff" and there's no mention of the mentally ill man that is me who sits at lunch actually thinking up and typing 140 characters into his phone then, well, fuck you.

There. It's not the heat so much, it's the stupidity.

goochout.

Breaking Balls the Most Chicken-Shit Way Possible

Somehow, in a world where sights and sounds and logic and common sense don't follow conventional/earthly norms, a Portland Police Officer accidentally shot a guy with real shotgun pellets instead of a less lethal beanbag round (as was instended).

Oregonian: Man accidentally shot by Portland officer struggled with mental illness

I understand that human error exists and that no one is immune from it. I'm proud of our Portland Police and think that overall they do a great job. However, I drive 3000 miles a month and I haven't had an officer take that into account when I get a photo radar ticket for running a yellow light. In fact, it's starting to become a criminal activity to film officers while on duty. So, all we have to hold Police accountable is their immediate public word after the fact (usually disparaging the victim and not disclosing specifics about the officers' activities during an incident) and the secret Grad Jury findings that always find in favor of the Police.

So when this recent event occurred, shit popped into my head and I posted tweets with the @MayorSamAdams modifier so that the Mayor/Police Commissioner would see them. I was trying to be funny more than be a dick. Hopefully I accomplished both. If you've paid attention to the news of the Portland Police during the last year, you'll get some of the references.

I'm cutting this post short so that I can go outside and bask in the glory of all that is sunshine and bicycling. Salaam.

• @MayorSamAdams Just say it was a "pellet delivery device with a six inch handle." #rosiecoloredglasses 
• @MayorSamAdams Can citizens get their own PIOs to dispute the erroneous public claims made by the PPD about them?
• @MayorSamAdams Don't worry about it. I'm sure a Grand Jury will make it all better.