I have a lot of female friends. When they're sad, I try to cheer them up. All of my friends are unique in their own way. There is, however, one commonality: Haagen Daz. This ice cream has become synonymous to me with a break up. I think it's German for "break up," as a matter of fact. I won't give this blog any integrity by looking up the meaning of the name, so we'll move on.

Whenever I answer my phone and I hear a sobbing female voice, not a word needs to be spoken before I head to the car with a five dollar bill at the ready for a pint of peanut butter-chocolate or chocolate-chip cookie dough frozen ecstasy. The crying stops as the first scoop hits her mouth, like a pacifier for crying adults. The slow eaters get the benefit of seeing the remaining half-pint in a liquefied state - only to drink it like a shake.

"You know," I onced mentioned during one of these ice cream benders while watching "The Notebook" with a forelorn female friend, "there's like 1200 calories in that thing."

"I don't care..." she responded... "no one's going to love me again anyways."

Sniff sniff, indeed.

GOOCH:out

Mr. Saturday Night.

I just woke up from a long nap, avoiding a hangover.

Before that I read that 58% of people polled thing that Scarlett Johannsen is better for Justin Timberlake than Cameron Diaz.

Before that I bought four avocados, a five bottles of Sobe Lean, Laughing Cow cheese, and $7 in celebrity gossip magazines.

Before that, I gave a friend of mine a ride to her car.

Before that, I woke up on my couch, thinking I was alone and saw my friend on the small couch, unexpectedly.

Before that, I embarked on a journey of games of pool, Jagermeister shots, domestic beers, and good times. I kissed a girl and I'm not really sure that was a great idea. Drunk Gooch loves the ladies.

Before that, my best friend showed up to meet me and my group of friends with a guy that had been asking her out for a while. I can't stand the guy and when he didn't even walk over to say 'hi' to me because he was busy pretending he was text messaging someone, I told her to "take that shit to BillyBobs," a bar not too far from where we were.

Before that, I thought a girl that I had semi-plans with last night was pissed at me and hung up on me. Turns out she wasn't and she didn't, but is pissed off now that she waited for me to call her last night. But I did, and she hung up(?).

Before that, I took a shower.

Hi Jenn E.

Gooch:Out

Update: I chose the orange flavored Jello because there was only one left.

Did you like that, with the text color change. Awesome!

goochout

From the mouth of a stripper...

"I have a 110 inch projectile TV" the sort of hot stripper said to me during a coversation about, um TVs. I guess.

"You mean a projector?" in case I misunderstood.

"Well, projectile is the technical term" she informed me.

Is this really my life? Holy fuck. Blogging in the early afternoon about the mis speaks of strippers? Scheduling my work week around when the hot temp secretary is working at one of my customers? Sending and receiving drunken emails? Pacing around my living room wondering which iPod I should buy because my fear of commitment spreads to consumer electronics as well, apparently? The computer vendor doesn't have my system ready for me pushing my entire day back an hour and all I can think about is "why did I wear this shirt today?" Which flavor Jello should I eat, because it's the only food in the fridge?

People's Court:on
gooch:out

From the first email I received this morning:

Gooch...just because we don't fuck doesn't mean you can be a shitty friend.

I'm troubled by the sentiment, but moved by the eloquence. Seriously.

I have to get to work. I'll chat more later. Gotta get my game face on. Eye of the tiger. Gooch! Gooch! Gooch!

Shooting Sizemore? He should be shot. With a gun, not a camera. Contrived bullshit.

Gooch:Out

Props to Gregster, Lucky's bar (28th and NE Glisan, Portland), and The Gladstone Pub (38th and SE Gladstone, Portland), for a decent mini pub-crawl last night.

I realized that no matter where I go, I feel entirely out of place. It's okay, I don't think I want to go where I feel like I belong.

I've run into a few girls that I've dated in the past. I ask them why we quit seeing each other and the #1 reason is: Too many female friends. Too many female friends that I've dated, to be specific. Which makes the conversations all the more ironic.

Back to the Grind. Something awesome needs to happen in the news so I can take the attention away from me.

Whatever doesn't make me stronger will kill me. - 01.07.07.jg