sweet.

goochout.

Funniest ascii-email closing I've seen yet:

......................... /´¯/)
......................,/¯ ..//
...................../... ./ /
............./´¯/'...'/´¯ ¯`·¸
........../'/.../..../... ..../¨¯\
........('(...´(..´...... ,~/'...')
.........\............... ..\/..../
..........''...\......... . _.·´
............\............ ..(
..............\.......... ...\

So Kevin Dubrow, of Quiet Riot, died of a cocaine overdose? Might as well call it "natural causes." I want to go to his funeral and say shit like "he died doing what he loved." Nobody dies "doing what they love." Unless they love gasping for breath and screaming "I don't want to die." Or overdosing on cocaine. Then you can say that.

Played soccer tonight. We tied. It was like a victory for our team - quietly chanting "we didn't lose" as we make our way to the bar for a training table of beer and pizza.

gotta work tomorrow. goochout.

I just ordered a bunch of "I [CLUB] Baby Seals" bumper stickers, so look for one in your stocking this holiday season.

You can buy your own online at: http://www.cafepress.com/goochonline

And no... I can't get your kid a Nintendo Wii.

gooch:out

Gooch and Mike: 2007

Every night in Miami was like a time warp. It was like the movie Memento. We'd hang out, have "a couple" of drinks, then black out for a window of time, then wake up in some random location. Rental cars, park benches, apartments, stairways... It's nice to see that the maturity levels haven't improved much since high school. Here's some pictures:


Pictures of the trip/Henry's wedding from Micah

Miami: Day2

Checking in from Miami, FL. So far I've run up my biggest bar bill to date, thrown up, fallen down a flight of stairs, was almost robbed by a prostitute(?), and was almost arrested for public urination.

That all happened within six hours of my landing here.

Having a lot of fun. Mike Henry's wedding is tonight. For those of you that don't know, my public writing career started with Mike in the form of a regularly published column in the high school paper called "Gooch and Mike: The Column." He's since moved from Portland to Seattle and then to Miami, where he and his fiancee currently reside.

Josh, another Franklin High School alum ended up sharing a room with me. I slept on the floor and opened my eyes to a tiny gecko scurrying up the wall. He saved me 15% on my auto insurance, which was cool.

Later...

goochout

I didn't watch the whole video. It starts with a clip about a 15 to 1 scale Atari controller that a guy built, which is freakin' sweet. After that is some sort of "Atari Therapy" bit.

I've gotta go, I'm going to go invent a baby monitor with a snooze button. I'm tired of seeing my friends with newborns so tired.

goochout

I was at an office. I was working on installing a check scanner on a computer. I went online to download the latest drivers for the scanner. The customer's home page in Internet Explorer was set to msn.com and a news blurb had popped up:

Where were you when you heard that Kevin Dubrow was dead?

Kevin Dubrow, dead at 52. Dubrow, of course, was the lead singer for the 80s metal band Quiet Riot.

I was ten-years-old in 1984. Back then, Portland radio station KMJK 106.7 ("Magic 107; back when decimals were irrelevant due to the ubiquity of analog tuning dials) had a "top ten at 10" radio show where the top songs of the day were played. As soon as the number one song started to play, listeners could call in and the 7th caller won the album containing the number one track. Cosmic John was the DJ. Every night I would listen and I would call, only to be greeted by a busy signal or a rare answer from the DJ himself, telling me I wan't a winner.

But one night while lying in bed surrounded by Empire Strikes Back wallpaper and flanked by my hermit crab tank, I was listening to my portable tape player/radio (a generic Walkman... the iPod of the times) when "Cum On Feel the Noize" started playing. I jumped off my bed, ran through the alcove and into my parents' room (they were still downstairs), grabbed the phone, and punched away at the dial pad.

One of four outcomes could occur when calling a radio station (in order of likeliness):

1: Busy signal
2: Ringing with the false hope of getting through, only to get the recorded message that "all circuits are busy."
3: Ringing with the DJ actually answering and telling you that you've lost.
4: The Holy Grail: "Number 7, you're a winner!"

The fourth outcome had presented itself to me, finally. I was so nervous about actually talking to the DJ, in my mind likely a highly paid celebrity who is probably flown in and out of work via helicopter in an effort to avoid the throngs of fans hanging around the station.

I had won Quiet Riot's "Metal Health" album. Of course, my Dad would have to pick it up from the station after work. In my nervousness, I mis-stated my address to the DJ. I was hoping that I hadn't somehow disqualified myself from receiving such a valuable gift. Fortunately, the next evening, my Dad appeared with the album. I immediately copied the LP to cassette (my first foray into media piracy, I suppose) and listened to the tape on my portable tape player/radio combo while lying in bed surrounded by Empire Strikes Back wallpaper and flanked by my hermit crab tank.