I've got and office and a bar party to go to this weekend. That's it. I can say whatever I want right now... no matter how mundane it is... because I've got a picture of some chick's big ass leading off this blog. ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ. 1234567890. It doesn't matter. You're hypnotized. Nothing to say = gratuitous ass shots. Blah Blah Blah.

I've got the solution for teen pregnancy. Actually.. any pregnancy. Fedora hats and trenchcoats. Since before I was in high school, the fedora and trenchcoat have been erroneously associated with rebelliousness and independence. I've unerroneously associated them with geeks, nerds, Dungeons & Dragons, and never getting laid. I see you bastards downtown with your headphones on, presumably listening to The Cure and thinking about where you're going to buy your next 10-sided die. Think about where you're going to meet a chick. Plan now so you can get laid by 35.

Word. I just completed my first bootleg DVD using a program called DVD Shrink. Check it out, yo.

Three songs on the Windows Media Player: Flock of Seagulls: Space Age Love Song; Alphaville: Forever Young; When in Rome: The Promise. Eighties New Wave mode in effect.

I love the Sirius radio. Yesterday I received 100 shares of Sirius stock from my Father for Christmas. The stock is already worth $300 more than when he purchased it last month. There's a chance that prick Stern can help me retire before 35.

Meanwhile, another ex-boyfriend pounding on the door at the sight of the GOOCH-1 in the ex-girlfriend's driveway. Phone calls asking to answer the door rang from 2:00am to 4:30am. What am I supposed to do? answer the door? I needs my sleep. Yo.

GOOD SIGN THAT THE RELATIONSHIP IS OVER.

I'm not even acting like I got the upper hand on anyone. Shit, I can empathize better than anyone. I felt bad, but also threatened and wanting to go to sleep. He should relax...I've been the "other guy" off and on for about a year now. I've gotten more rebounds than Wilt Chamberlain. It's not so bad. Oh well.

Went to see Modest Mouse last night. Great show. McMenamins staff can be pretty condescending. I called them on it, though. Just because you look like you haven't showered for a week does not make you better than me. Fuckers. It's my friend Bonnie's birthday today. Marty and I are pretty sure that she had a birthday a month ago. I guess we'll celebrate again. Bonnie is the girl from the "fight breakup" pictorial. Cool. Off to exercise for a minute.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BONNIE

So I officiated the YMike/Jenna wedding on December 11. I got ordained on the internet and performed the ceremony. It was an absolute honor. Scary as hell, but once it was done I truly felt like I was part of something amazing. I thought that planning a bachelor party was the pinnacle of marriage ceremony bliss; this tops it for sure. I'm happy for Mike and Jenna and their families and, again, honored to have been a part of this event.

It's ironic that the wedding occured on the anniversary of my divorced parents' marriage and that I myself can't sustain a relationship to save my life... despite the fact that I just brought two people into a state of matrimony. Oh well... I'll figure this stuff out eventually. My latest reconciliation is looking like a crash-and-burn. At least I was given the opportunity to work through issues I had and maybe allow myself to have a healthy relationship someday. I've spent a lot of time being "the other guy" for several different girls. It's an okay scenario when you just want to get laid, otherwise it's painful. It's fitting for me but shallowness was only meant to be temporary.

Everyone that told me that my latest relationship endeavor was a bad idea should know that I appreciate their concern, but I had to figure stuff out on my own... and this is the best way to do it. No matter the outcome, I'm happier. Notice the self control that I've displayed for almost two weeks. No benders. I feel like I have a super-power; like I'm Moderation Man! I'm tired.

Moderation Man:OUT

Ymike's (The groom) Xanga Site

The Love Column: 7/23/2003

I'll never write anything as good as that again. Okay... someday I will. I've stayed sober for over a week... I drank, but I've not done the crazed liver assault that would have typically happened by mid-week. Clarity is a motherfucker, but making an ass of yourself and trying to remember what you did the next day is no way to go through life. I think that I've suffered for nearly eight months from heartache. I never dealt with it other than with drinking. I've tried to move on by dating good looking girls, but I always ended it because I was too hurt over my ex - or they ended it because they sensed the same thing. Also, this is a small town and when you date enough girls they end up hanging out with each other, which drives me fucking nuts; talking about me the same way old ladies talk about laundry detergent or carpet cleaner... I'm not an appliance. I'm also not a role model. Read the "Breakup Column" linked above and know that It's the rantings of a bitter man who'd just come to the conclusion that the world is screwed up and your worst fears will always be realized. If you think your girlfriend or someone you're dating stood you up to fuck a guy... just act like you know it happened. They won't deny it, likely. If you think it happened, it probably did. Don't kid yourself... don't become your own worst enemy. Follow your heart? Your heart is a fucking idiot. Your friends know best. Better yet, follow your dick and put a ball gag on your heart and throw it in a box... like the Gimp in Pulp Fiction. Only pull your heart out for special occassions, like a kid's birthday or something. Sobriety sucks... but it's necessary. Moderation is the key. I no longer have to drink myself passed out in order to get through the night or even simply be social. Whatever happened and is happening this week is a series of events that has knocked me from a depressed funk to being, well, angry. My best friend in the fucking world just said to me: "It's easier to be angry than sad. Maybe not easier, but it looks cooler."

I... I think I'm back. I became ordained online and am honored to be performing a wedding ceremony for YMike and his fiancee Jenna. They're getting married on my parents' wedding anniversary. My parents marriage... another reason I'm screwed up. Maybe last weekend and this weekend are so absurdly surreal that they were meant to give me a message to shut the fuck up and move on. I feel like jogging, just running as fast as I can for as long as I can. That would last about 20 seconds. I've got to get the day started. I'm pumped. I'm energized. I'm moderately sober.
I'm Gooch, dammit.

YOU MAKE THE CALL:

It's 2am... I've got a drunk girl in her car in the parking lot in front of my condo. she won't get out of the car. She just moans and holds her position. She's completely fucked up. I don't want to leave her out there, but there's no moving her. I've stalled, fighting with my ex for a while. I don't know what to do. Do you? I've even said "the bears will get you," which is what I used to say to my ex-girlfriend's son (you laugh... but it almost worked). By the time anyone reads this, she'll have puked in her car. Shit... i'm tired and want to go to bed. This designated driver stuff is bullshit. I picked the wrong time to stop binge drinking.

Fuck it, I'm going to bed. i've locked her in her car and unlocked the front door to the condo.

Fucking bizarre weekend. The words "I love you" mean nothing to me anymore (unless it's to my Mom). I'm not having a pity party... I've never been happier. I'm glowing.

Yawn... indeed.