Is a committed relationship really anything more than two people agreeing not to fuck anyone else?

When two people in a relationship go on a "break," isn't it really like a Mexican standoff to see who's going to fuck around on the other in the name of the "break?"

Is the DJ booth at the strip club ready for my return?

Will the girl that I plowed in to last night during soccer ever walk again?

Do the people at the Kaiser Building cafeteria know that I've stolen energy drinks from their unguarded bin near the back entrance for weeks now?

Is there a Mexican hex bestowed upon me by the housekeeper that cleaned my room (specifically the freshly vomited-in bathroom) in Reno?

Happy birthday, April.

Happy birthday, Judy.

Gooch:Out

I joined an indoor soccer league with my friend Britta. I haven't played organized sports since high school and I haven't played soccer since the third grade. The entire saga is column worthy but I'll jot the Cliff's notes here:

My turf shoes caught in the turf, I fell forward and slammed the side of my head into the outside of a girl's knee. She had to leave the stadium. Court? Whatever.

I got one assist and I even hit the ball with my head a few times, just for show. I had no idea what I was doing, but I looked good in my new gear.

I'm incredibly sore already and am opting to sleep in my office.

goochout.

I threw up this morning something fierce. I made Karen Carpenter look like a fucking amateur. I could post a digital picture of the toilet into which I expelled last night's awesome prime rib dinner, but I've already re edited this blog once today for content.

Upon reflection, I realize that my drinking patterns were not well thought out. Two bloody marys, two glasses of wine (with dinner), three beers (at the blackjack table), and three more beers (at Shooters, to make the bartenders cuter).

The exterior of the toilet looks like tie-dye.

What's for lunch?

goochout

Update 04.24.07: I am hung the fuck over. Fucking Shooters, man. Gets me every time. I didn't have enough fun to justify how I feel right now, but it was fun.

My Dad took me to the "best steak house in Reno," The Steakhouse at the Peppermill. I looked at the menu and one entree caught my eye: Prime Rib with jumbo shrimp sauteed in a Jack Daniels flambe of some sort. I paired it with a bottle of merlot (fuck you, I like merlot).

Holy fucking shit. If I was on death row, this would be the meal I'd order. If there was a way I could receive a blow job while consuming this meal, I would give up all of my worldly possessions and kill myself once I completed all courses.

It was that good.

Gooch Fun Fact #185: *Edited for content 04.24.07*

Gooch Fun Fact #186: Gooch is dating a girl that doesn't know he has a website.

Gooch Fun Fact #187: Gooch hates people that write about themselves in the third person.


gooch: he is out

Faces of Meth? Na... Faces of vodka.

Greetings from room 1411 at the Eldorado in Reno, NV. I guess my only complaint is that my limo reservation got fucked up somehow. My biggest concern is how I’m going to catch Sopranos and Entourage tonight. I haven’t watched TV yet, don’t know if I have HBO.

Wow, sounds gayer when I write it all out like that.

Interesting family dinner-time conversation topic #288: Gooch wants to have sex with Eva Mendez but not Eva Longoria. Your thoughts?

I went to a bar with video poker built into it and ordered a free bloody mary while I played Jacks or Better. It was the best bloody mary I’d had in a while. I popped a 20 into the machine and drank about four of those bad boys. The only drawback was that the bartender was one of those workers who was really busy and made sure everyone knew it and if someone walked up to the bar and tried to get his attention because he would just ignore them because “it wasn’t their turn.” He also explained to anyone with a cell phone the full five-minute explanation why they couldn’t use their cell phone at the sports book (where we were). I had to hear it three times. No one, seemed really interested and by the end of the diatribe regretted the day that Motorola rocked the first brick phone.

Am I buzzed right now?

Gooch Fun Fact #129: He has a stockpile of Viagra in his car and home. In the event of a natural disaster he won't have canned food or bottled water, but will have a boner.

I'm going to the gym in a bit. Need to get in shape and warm up for the night ahead. I have some more gambling to do. Maybe hit a bar tonight. I like Shooters because Dave Attell featured it on Insomniac. My friend Erik and I went there once when it was busy and the bartenders were hot and were buying us (and others, I'm sure) shots and then doing shots with us. It was the best bar (without nudity) ever. The bartenders passed out at around 4am. We decided they were closed at that point.

I’m here until Tuesday.

gooch:out

It's my birthday today.

Thirty-three years old. I think Jesus Christ died at 32. He accomplished a lot by 32. He turned water into wine. I've only managed to turn wine into vomit. It's a neat trick. I do it towards the end of the night. Usually.

So it's close to 10am. I'm particularly leisurely today. I have two work related items to do: one is in exchange for food, and the other is a delivery to one of my favorite customers. Otherwise, I'm gonna try to live like Gooch at 31, except I'm waking up on my own bed instead of Marty's couch and not watching a lot of HBO On Demand.

A girl spent the night last night. For my birthday she promised not to cry while she got dressed or while she walked from my front door to her car.

DRINKS: A few of us are meeting at Original Roadhouse in Gresham 7:30ish.

I could spend the next three hours watching this season's "Sopranos" and "Entourage" without getting dressed or leaving bed.

Heh, now that sounds like Gooch at 31.

gooch:old

...it's okay, some of my best friends are nappy headed hos.
Singer Don "Nappy Headed" Ho dead at 76
When I'm dehydrated, I like to drink nappy headed H2O.

Why didn't Imus use the same excuse I've used: "No baby... I didn't mean... oh, no... 'ho' is short for 'honey.'" Them are some nappy looking honeys. Simple misunderstanding.

Fuck Don Imus. No one actually actually heard him say that shit live because no one listens to Imus, or even understands him. He needs subtitles on his MSNBC televisjion show. He needs subtitles on his radio show, somehow. I bet the "I-Man" (as in Incomprehendible, Innate, Irrelevant) is going nuts over the fact that the Virginia Tech shooting didn't happen a few days sooner.

It's almost 5am. I need to go to sleep. Fuck.