Transformers 2: Rise of the Gooch

John Gallucci Fan Club on Facebook

Thanks, Joe for starting the club. I think the fan base is witness to my drunken antics more than my writing or DJing, but I'll take accolades where I can get them.

Soccer match tonight, looking forward to it. I'm getting in better shape, now I need to work on my skills. I reached a goal weight today. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm eating enough as I'm perpetually in a state of sleepiness. I might actually fork over the duckets for a nutritionist as I want to do my best (as I get older) to not be superfat again. I just want to get down to, you know, "chubby."

I'm still have yet to watch the bootleg "Wolverine" movie all the way through. It looks like it might be worth seeing in the theatre. I fucking WILL see Terminator: Salvation because I've seen every Terminator movie in the theatre and will keep the streak alive (Terminator was the first rated R movie I ever saw in a theatre: Salem, OR, 1984).

Shalom, bitches.

Peace,

gooch

I'm bored.

I've twittered, I've texted, I've spoken to actual people. I just want to go back home. I've heard of this "eight hour work day" and I think it's a myth. I've done two billable hours and I'm ready to get back under the covers. I slept a long time last night, too.

I think the shrink calls it a "zest for life" that I'm lacking. Maybe I'm depressed. Maybe the rain is affecting me. Maybe I just need a nap. Maybe I need to eat more than the 450 calories I've consumed today. Yup... I need some lunch, stat.

Maybe I could eat while I nap. Where's that home IV kit?

Did you read that and wonder "what's a home 4 kit?"

Idiot.

goochout.

Episode IV: A New Gooch

This picture was taken in my bedroom 4/27/09 at 3am this morning. This would explain why I'm so tired this morning. My Boba Fett costume is covered with pillow feathers and my penis still has on it some of the flourescent light saber paint that didn't rub off on my hand.

Just kidding, I actually laid on my side and these girls took turns being chained by their necks to my platform throne. God, I need to lose some weight.

Hoo ooh ooh... ahh haa haa, indeed.

jabba:out

Morning Wouldn't...

I know it's late, but I'm in a Spicoli-styled lack of ambition mode this week. I capped my massage yesterday with a chiropractic adjustment and I feel a lot better. Not perfect, but so much better.

Masseuse [discussing a girl that I dated earlier this year]: ...Were you two intimate?

Me: Yes, yes we were. We also had sex.

Heyoooooooooooooo!


I saw this picture of Amy Smart and I'm trying to decide if, given a choice, if I'd fuck either her or that Susan Boyle chick from American Idol/YouTube.

Amy Smart or Susan Boyle? Answer: sock followed by a nap.

Regis Philbin is going to host "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" this summer? They should get the host from "Slumdog Millionaire" to host it. How perfect would that be and is that dude even busy with anything other than pimping out the DVD release? I think not.

Gooch: First Blood

UPDATE: I'm getting sporadic boners today. This will not bode well at the massage. Our lady of the Blessed Flacidity, please shine down upon thine penis.

I'm getting a massage today. I'll admit that the masseuse is a hot chick, but I've visited her a few times and I'm comfortable with her. I'm just not used to getting undressed in front of a good looking girl unless, you know, there's alcohol involved.

"Gooch," you ask, "don't you mean that you're just not used to getting undressed in front of a good looking girl?"

Very funny, asshole.

I'm moving at the speed of Gooch. I've coasted through some decent paying gigs this week. I'm getting the massage today. I've eaten a ton of sushi. I feel like a princess, except I'm a dude. A dude princess.

I HATE getting drunk and having heart to heart conversations. I used to think they were sweet moments but now I look back on everything that I say, even when just buzzed, and cringe for some reason.

I'm not a people person this week.

I'm not a role model, well, ever.

Shalom, fuckers.

goochout.

Goochspotting

Miss California: Carrie Prejain

The Miss USA pageant is just getting stupid. Er. Stupider. I've never heard so many canned, stupid responses to softball questions. Universal healthcare is a matter of integrity? Dummies. These bitches should practice the art of Shutting the Fuck Up. That should be one of the competitions: The "Shut the fuck Up portion of the competition." Just sit there, look hot, and be quiet.

I've got two words for the next Miss USA competition: Brass Poles. Two more words: Lap Dance.

I finished a decent computer gig this morning and I've begun Goochweek. I'm getting my teeth cleaned, my fucked up back massaged; I've spent the entire morning setting up lunches and peripheral health appointments. Maybe I'll get a mani-pedi and really fag it up. Cosmopolitans anyone?

I should probably get some work done.

Probably.

Djing this Friday.

goochout.

It's my birthday.

It's almost 1pm and I haven't left the confines of my bedroom. Kind of hungry. Ambition is zapped to zero.

I don't sleep with whoever I want. I sleep with whoever wants me
- David Lee Roth

Last night's party at Vertigo was a blast. People that said they weren't going to show up did so after all. I think we took over the entire bar with the exception of a few bar stools and a booth. I drank an exhorbitant amount, as expected, but maintained composure in the end.

I think.

Despite the fact that my house looks like it's been ransacked by burglars or a DEA search, I'm not doing any chores today. I will clean out the car, visit Mom, buy a cold soda, and enjoy the sun through my sunroof.

Peace.

gooch:old