Ah... Home.

I fucking hate Russel Brand for this. Not fair.

My broken rib and self imposed house arrest to aid in the healing ideally yielding less missed days at work have placed me smack dab in front of the computer. As a responsible adult, my drinking has only occured when accompanied by prescription pain killers. That's right: Responsifuckingbility. Pass it on.

I've pirated the fuck out of software lately. I've got a mission control set up here. Haphazard proxy servers, virtual machines, a fat fucking Intel processor. I just sit here and do shit. Download, modify, watch, listen, learn. I'm pretty sure this technology discovery was what killed my last good relationship and will kill any future relationships. [starts to cry, downloads porn, feels better].

I've lost the drowsiness that Vicodin brings. Now it's just the stupidness. That's fine. I haven't needed to be smart lately anyways.

Lieberman proposed a bill that gave the Executive Branch (Obama) full control to kill the internet. Yeah, that story even deserved to  be posted. Think about it. How much of the economy is fueled by the internet. I'll give you an idea: um... a fucking shit ton! Maybe on the last day of his presidency, before he goes to retire in the non-US territory from which he resides, he'll pull the switch on the interweb. Honestly, I'm pretty sure the Department of Defense owns most of the internet infrastructure and could be shut off by the government anyways. Not sure. I'm going off of what I learned 10 years ago in college. You know, the 13-19th grade.

I'm going to pass out. Hug a loved one tonight. Unless you're in bed with someone else's spouse/significant other. Then hug someone else's loved one. If you can't be with the one you love, you better believe someone else will take your place. Sleep soundly kids.

gooch out.

Hola, me llamo es Gooch.

My mobility [asterisk] following my Wednesday evening soccer mishap which resulted in a broken rib has given away to the post injury muscle aches and some sort of weird depression. It's as if there's an accupuncture point in my lung that fuels depression. I've resigned to the fact that I won't play soccer this session, marking the first time in three years that has happened. That's a bummer.

As I've just recently adopted Windows 7 at home and almost immediately had a working virtual environment on that system so that I could learn Mac OSX and Linux. Going from using Windows to Mac is like going from speaking Spanish to Mexican (or vice versa. whatever). There's only so many ways for a graphical user interface to allow a human to use a computer. Seeing the ways in which Apple and Windows have borrowed from each other over the years is interesting.

I've fumbled my way through Linux, which I find a great way to resurrect older computers on their way to be recycled. There's many more applications for Linux, the venerable and long standing open source operating system, but I haven't thought to delve into that yet. I know a lot of people use Linux as their sole operating system environment and, well, good for them.

On other geeky fronts, I've been watching episodes of Battlestar Galactica 1980 on Netflix. It's an Earth-set spinoff of the original Battlestar Galactica. Some of the most bizarre casting and horrible acting, yet I'm drawn to seeing a real Centurian cylon lumbering through an earthling Halloween party in an effort to extort radio air control from real life disc jockey Wolfman Jack to send a signal to the Cylon Imperious Leader. Yes, that's a two part episode.

 I have no idea.

Vicodin kicking in. Nap time.

oug

Holy Shit.

Yeah, I know. Gratuitous and I'm a tasteless low life. I've got the corporate content filters telling me the same fucking thing. Save it.

I think I cracked and/or broke a rib. I thought a had a good shot on goal, but forgot that nearly everyone on the field is faster than me. As a result, the goal keeper snatched the ball from in front of me and I, quickly approaching the opposing goal from the right side, stopped my momentum by inadvertently diving head/shoulder first into the wall of our indoor soccer field.

I thought maybe I'd knocked something out of place: a vertebra, a rib, a vital organ. I played a little of the second half and then my normally cheerful disposition was altered by the sometimes blinding pain that occurred only when I breathed. God forbid I should cough or sneeze; I sneezed a little bit ago and almost passed out.

So I've taken a couple of percocet and started working on another geeky project here in my lab. The project? Forty Five minutes of Gooch-rigging followed by two hours of task bar watching while I writhe in pain. The tears streaming down my face? Their the task bars... of my soul.

I take no responsibility for any typos on this post.

P.S.: Have you ever come across an old stash of porn and wondered how you ever jerked off to something so tame? No? Oh, me neither.

Out.

Monsters of Gooch

Salaam, bitches.

You know how when a couple is expecting a baby and they start building a little nursery in their house and start, in a sense "nesting?" I'm rearranging my office in anticipation of my own, special, adorable bundle of joy.

I'm building a computer which will be the first new computer I've purchased in nearly ten years. The financial justification has transpired as follows:

If I was a real adult and had kids, they might have needed braces by now. This computer is being purchased using braces money.

I should have gotten about 300 DUIIs in the course of my life. If I paid the full price for each one of those, it would have cost me approximately 2.7 million dollars. This computer is only a small fraction of that.

You get the idea.

UPDATE: The system is here. It's installed, and it's awesome. I did go a little "budget" on a few things: Kept my old video card, Core i7 860 processor, only 6GB of RAM (I can upgrade), 74GB Western Digital Raptor hard drive. I have Windows 7 Professional 64 bit and Virtual Machine running Mac OSX 10.6.3 (the latest). This means that I have an entire computer running inside a window inside my computer. It's a mind fuck to some (me included) but a technology I've embraced. I haven't left the front of this computer in four five six hours. I haven't had to go to the bathroom because I haven't eaten anything in a while. I'm thinking about hopping in the car, in my pajamas, and getting drive thru. UPDATE: Drank wine and had a couple breakfast bars. passing out soon.

UPDATE AGAIN: What a waste of a post. It was written in bits and pieces on five different computers and three different operating systems. Which makes it interesting only to me.

Since this post is technology-ish, I'm going to give you some pointers on technology (read: payoff)...

• Never store digital pictures of yourself on your computer having sex.
•  If you're a guy, never store digital pictures of yourself on your computer having sex unless your face is obscured.
• If she's ugly, never store digital pictures of yourself on your computer having sex unless both of your faces are obscured.
• If she's fat, put the camera away. Asshole.
• You can tell if you have compromising pictures of yourself on your computer if you send your computer to be repaired and instead of an invoice, you get a couple of twenties.
• Or a phone number.
• Or both.
• Never write anything that you are afraid anyone might read. Unless it's on this site... your secrets are safe here. Email, IMs, texts... all of it can be retrieved.
• Always back up your data. Hard drives are like goldfish, old people, and celebrities  during the last 24 months: They fucking die. If it matters to you, have copies of it on at least two different places/media.
• Fuck Geek Squad. Don't let them near anything that you don't want damaged/lost/stolen/broken.
• Don't buy the extended warranty. It's a gamble, but seldom do you really receive the benefits promised when you signed up. Instead, make sure you understand and have a copy of the manufacturer's warranty, which is usually more adequate than the salesperson would have you know.
• If it's on the internet, it's free, and it benefits your life in some way: be careful. Nothing on the internet is truly free or without consequences.

 Back to work. Sunny and 72 outside in Portland, OR. Why would I want to spend a Saturday anywhere else other than a flourescent lit office working on computers?

goochout

Worshipping False (American) Idols

I defer to my heat of the moment Twitter posts to relay my thoughts on American Idol's finale last night. In summary, though:

Dane Cook is not funny. He and Joe Piscopo should be at a bar in the middle of the day somewhere telling chicks how famous they used to be.

Ricky Gervais bombed. Polite laughter wasn't loud enough to not be uncomfortable.

Janet Jackson looks like Jermaine, sounds (seriously, listen to her performance again) like Michael, and has Tito's gigantic ass.

I could stare at Siobahn (last name irrelevant) all fucking day. I find her looks more compelling than cable television. And I mean expanded cable; not that channels two through seventy-one bullshit.

Reuben Studdard lost some weight, and Kelly Clarkson sure as fuck found it.

Simon Cowell and Crystal Bowersox looked like they were competing for who wanted to look less like they wanted to be there.

Do you fucking mean to tell me that out of the thousands of tryouts and all of the votes, the resulting two candidates for American Idol are two chubby uncharismatic, uninspired (Bowersox tried to leave the show recently, according to reports) decent-karaoke-singers-at-best contestants? Look at them. Listen to them. That's the absolute BEST talent that America has to offer?

Gooch:Out






I'd still bang Kelly Clarkson.

Six Examples of Misleading Headlines

When I wrote for publications (all, you know, three or four in my lifetime) I took pride in my headlines. I knew that a good headline was paramount in getting people to read your stories. I tried to make them catchy and interesting, but never misleading.

I've run into a few stories lately where the headline is completely misleading. Here's some examples:

Miss USA Rima Fakih Once Won Radio Stripping Contest in 2007

Sounds like the new Miss USA took her clothes off, right?
From the actual story: "Fakih did not actually take her clothes off. She just bumped and grinded on stage with a stripper pole.

Again? MAX train leaves 4-year-old boy at station Sunday night‎
Normally, the Oregonian kisses TriMet's ass, constantly painting Portland's mass transit provider in a positive light almost as if they were a PR firm cutting out the middle man. I found this headline a bit inflammatory in that the accompanying video looked more like a 4-year-old wasn't attended to properly and ran off the MAX right before the doors closed. The next day the headline for the EXACT SAME STORY was changed to:
Distracted riding? Video shows 4-year-old darted off MAX train while dad talked on cell phone

These are the only two examples I could come up with that I'd seen recently. I guess it's important to read the full story and not judge a situation by someone's inability to convey a situation in the constraints of a short headline.

Gooch:Out

The Day the Laughter Died

I've sort of hit a bad patch. It's sort of a mixed blessing, but nonetheless whatthefuck-worthy. In some sort of Kafka-esque transformation, I've lost the ability to drink.

It started earlier this week as I tried to sip some tequila before dinner at a friend's. Within an hour of my first sip, I was finding creative ways to pour my tequila into my two friends' glasses (I'll be damned if I'm going to waste Patron).

The deterrent/obstacle to my inebriation is some sort of tension headache brought on after about two drinks' worth of booze is consumed. I can sip a beer over the course of a sporting event, but gone are the days of my normal consumption, it would seem. At least for now.

I'm also drinking about a gallon of water a day due to an unquenchable thirst. Some people have suggested that diabetes might be lingering. I argue, of course, that just because a dude is fat and drinks a lot of water and urinates a lot does not mean he might have diabetes.

It, of course, damn well could mean that. But whatever.

Anyways, knowing that alcohol makes up a good 85% of my personality, it's going to be interesting to go through the weekend with any measurable lucidity. How will I explain it to people? I haven't thought of anything interesting or dare I say 'funny' in two weeks. I blame this on my birthday somehow.

Anyways.