I've been spending more time trying to hide this site than telling people about it. I get emails from people that I've just met (read: girls) asking if I'm "really that drunk and angry?" The answer: absofuckinglutely. Not really, though. I'm a fun loving guy. Not a lot of responsibilities and I party a bit too much. Don't forget... I lost my job and my girlfriend broke up with me within a short span of each other. I say that when life deals you a bad hand, make lemonade.

So I've made lemonade. Actually, lemon juice, and squeezed it into a pint or fifteen of Widmer Hefeweizen. I'll grow up (again) soon, but in the meantime I'm going to party like the rock star that you aren't.

YMIKE LEAVING THE GAME:Michael Yatabe of DFiVE9 fame has announced that he is leaving the music scene. Mike was the one who got me hooked up with Jam Magazine back when I graduated from college and he's still a good friend of mine today. Good luck to him in his future endeavors. His last show with DFiVE9 will be August 22nd at the Ash Street Saloon. Attendance is required, yo.

DFIVE9 IS... L TO R: YMIKE, WILL, NIC, KRUM.

Oh, yeah... back to me.

GOOCH WITH PARROT BAY GIRLS 8.14.03. HOLY CHRIST, THE DRINK IN MY HAND (A "PARROT BAY BREEZE") GAVE
ME THE WORST FUCKING HANGOVER. I SHOULD HAVE PUT THAT DRINK DOWN
AND HELD THE GIRLS. LIKE A STRAIGHT GUY WOULD.

I watched Unfaithful last night. I can't figure out which lesson I learned: To never bang a married chick or to never get married at all. Either way, I'm locking up my snow globes from now on.

I slipped a Xanax into my applesauce last night. I tricked myself into taking a pill. Next time I'm on a date that isn't going so well, I'm going to dump some Rohypnol into my own drink.

This msblast.exe worm/virus is a motherfucker. I've been putting out those flames lately. Make sure your virus software is up to date and if you don't have some sort of firewall, get one (Windows XP has one built in). You can hire me to fix the problem, if you get infected. I'm dirt cheap and seldom drink while working.

Blogger, who hosts these log pages, is having a planned server outage tonight. I had an unplanned server outage today. I regret any inconvenience.

What's really sad is that I don't remember writing that last blog at all. I know that in January I did some heavy drinking and every morning I'd visit this site to see if I'd written anything new. I think I've returned to that M.O. again. Jesus, what a whining bitch I've become. I can spell damned good, apparently, when I'm shit faced. I like the bumper sticker idea. I wonder if I produced that sticker if my drunk self would file a copyright infringement suit against my sober self?

Hmmm... Gooch: drunk: again. Hey, if anyone needs advice on how to run their lives, shoot me an email. My life is so fucked up that I'd cheerfully email you advice on how to run your life. Go ahead... ask me shit. I've just decided that dating could be worse than a full blown girlfriend. I'm not sure. At times of uncertainty, I sleep on the couch all day and watch whatever fucking marathon they throw at me (today was the Rocky movies on TNT). Because I get so lonely, I'll take any chance I can for social interaction, which usually involves drinking with friends until 3am, which is why I'm writing now. I still think I'll look back on these days in ten years and think that these are truly the best days of my life. I guess. I don't know. I'm drunk off Red Bull and vodka for Chrissakes. I feel like I'm not accomplishing anything with my life. This was cool for the first six months of unemployment, but now I'm starting to get bummed. If I could just find the cure for AIDS or cancer or some shit, I'd feel a lot better about my incessant drinking, partying, and jerking off. until then I'm a piss stain on the urinal of life.

The worst day single is better than the best day with a girlfriend. I'm going to make that into a bumper sticker.

Confidential from Gooch to John Gallucci: QUIT BEING A FUCKING PUSSY.

There. Now if I read my own site, I might get the message.

Had an angry, drunken night last night. Fortunately, I have a Windows 2000 workstation to put together. It's like therapy, perusing HCLs, migrating data, customizing shit. I woke up early... hungover/still drunk, and started in. I'm calming down now. Ready to rock.

QUALITY WORK PERFORMED BY SKILLED, CERTIFIED, HUNGOVER TECHNICIANS.

Correction: It has been brought to our attention that an error was made in the log dated August 6, 2003. "While drinking for twelve hours straight on Saturday" should actually read "While drinking for fourteen hours straight on Saturday." GoochOnline.com regrets the error.

Fo shizzo, my Nizzos.

"Cameron is genuinely paranoid and stressed out about this girl that's stalking him. As his friend, it's my job to exploit that." --My friend Lee, in Idaho.

While in Idaho visiting my friend Lee, I met Cameron with whom Lee hangs out. I also met Deb, Cameron's stalker. She follows him around, asks people about him, mails him letters, etc. Lee and I (while drinking for twelve hours straight on Saturday) wrote love letters, sent flowers, and made prank phone calls in an effort to torment the shit out of this guy. He was really freaking out, and that made us smile. We pranked this guy for twelve hours for no reason other than to see that "oh... fuck" look on his face. "How come the really hot chicks never stalk people?" Cameron asked while holding a rose we had a waitress deliver to him. Juvenile? Yes. Stupid? Probably. However, when you're drunk and in Idaho... it's the right thing to do.

On Monday I was doing cannonballs into a five-foot deep pool, slamming my ass into the bottom of the pool each time. I'm sore as hell. Maybe fat, drunk, and stupid is the way to go through life.

My barbecue skills are on point... I've mastered the hell out of my cheapo gas grill. I get up, grill, eat, sleep, play Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, and maybe slang some tech support here and there to pay for it all.

Got a nice email from a girl who liked the latest column (the one about breakups). Between that column and the pictorial of me snorting Jello shots, I've had more people contact me out of the blue. Only when I faked my death did more people contact me (actually my parents) to see if I was still alive.

New hat in the Merch section of the site. It's one of those retro-trucker hats that are so popular now. I couldn't stand them until I saw that all the cool people are wearing them, now I want to wear one.