Working at Skyland tonight.

Went out last night and closed down Duke's in Gresham, OR. There's an outdoor area cordoned off in the front of the bar. Despite the fact that it's well lit in that area, girls seem to talk to me a lot there. One invited me to an "after hours" party at her house with her and her friends. I started to say "sure, let's go!" and then the "game over" light in my big drunken head came on. Some instinctual self preservation mode that sent me right to a sober person's vehicle to get me to the nearest couch, on which I'd sleep. No after hours party. No hook-ups. Just sleep, baby.

And then, the hangover.

Fuck.

I miss writing for print publications. I mean, I'm sure I reach more people with this website than a lot of the smaller publications that otherwise would publish me. I miss seeing my name misspelled by a copy-editor, seeing my column face-up in a men's room stall. I dunno...

I have a wardrobe consultant, the mythological, diabolical, breakaballical, Nikki. She has gone clothes shopping with me, and picked out my existing clothes to wear before we hit the club. I've met a lot of people at bars and clubs lately (thanks to someone else dressing me for a change), but I'm learning that many shallow relationships do not add up to a meaningful one. It's fun trying, though.

I'm scheduled for another commercial shoot. The same people that filmed my original one over a year ago. It'll be for a clinical trial study like my first one. Should be fun.

GOOCH:out

I miss writing for print publications. I mean, I'm sure I reach more people with this website than a lot of the smaller publications that otherwise would publish me. I miss seeing my name misspelled by a copy-editor, seeing my column face-up in a men's room stall. I dunno...

I have a wardrobe consultant, the mythological, diabolical, breakaballical, Nikki. She has gone clothes shopping with me, and picked out my existing clothes to wear before we hit the club. I've met a lot of people at bars and clubs lately (thanks to someone else dressing me for a change), but I'm learning that many shallow relationships do not add up to a meaningful one. It's fun trying, though.

I'm scheduled for another commercial shoot. The same people that filmed my original one over a year ago. It'll be for a clinical trial study like my first one. Should be fun.

GOOCH:out

Web MD: Young Men Lead Surge in Viagra Use
(Click the title for the full story)

Blue Steel in effect, motherfuckers. The number one cure for liquor dick per clinical trials I've personally conducted in my home office. I'm getting Cialis next. The Cialis commercials state in their warnings that "erections lasting longer than three days may require immediate medical attention." Dr. Gooch suggests that erections lasting longer than three days may require more girls and time off work.

I'm Dead... bitch!

Rick James, dead at 56.

From the MSN story:

In 1993 he was convicted in two separate cases of assaulting women. The first case occurred in 1991, when prosecutors said James and his girlfriend tied a woman to a chair, burned her with a hot crack pipe and forced her to perform sex acts during a cocaine binge at his West Hollywood home.

Cocaine's a hell of a drug... indeed.

Also in the story, it states that he likely died of natural causes. Um... he's Rick James and he's dead at 56. There's nothing natural about either one of those facts.

I'm Gooch, bitch.

Frequent Tanning May Signify Mental Disorder

Dedicated to Nikki (my best friend), Meggan (my ex-girlfriend) and me (my own worst enemy). Click HERE for the story.

My post regarding the Nokia auction was post number 666, according to blogger. This does not bode well.

I was a good boy this afternoon. I met with friends, played pool, went to bed early. At 12:23, according to the Moto, I started getting prank calls on my cell phone. At first it was a chick's voice mimicking my "hellos" and "who's theres." Then followed a series of calls and hangups. I'm too old for this shit. I'm tired, yo.