The Gooch Playset *

I bought a toy car version of my car online. What I need now is a Gooch Action Figure. What an awesome toy set that would be! It would be like the Star Wars or GI Joe action figures and play sets. Instead of the Cantina in Star Wars, I would have the Montego's Action Playset (Q-Ball action figure not included).

Also available would be: Fellatious stripper action figures (sold in sets of three with vacuum attachment), Wood Village condo playset (with white walls you can paint yourself... not that I have in real life), an ex-girlfriend action figure that turns orange when you put her in a toy tanning bed (then, you know, stays orange), an ex-girlfriend hairdresser action figure that talks even when the batteries are removed, an ex-girlfriend action figure with a variety of cute hats, a Gregster action figure that comes with a Burrito Cart play set with live action sound effects, a Bret action figure available by mail order only that will show up way later than it's supposed to, a Nikki action figure that says different phrases like "I'm drunk" or "I'm confused." It'll be fucking awesome!


One of the skills/curses I have in life is that I can spot typos and mis-spellings from a mile away. I don't bother to check my own work (so don't send emails proofreading this blog). I was in a bathroom and I spotted this gem.

Ha!

goochout

*Lots of inside jokes in this one... not necessarily a widely accessible bit of humor. I apologize. Sometimes I just write shit that I think is funny.

Has anyone... like the last four remaining people watching network television, seen the show "Moment of Truth?" I haven't, but I've read some synopses of it from imdb.com. The premise is that someone is asked a bunch of questions before the show while hooked up to a lie detector. Then, the person is on stage in front of an audience and his or her family and asked the questions again. Their answers have to correspond with what their lie detector results were. Here's an example:

Question #8: As an EMT have you ever knowingly falsified a report?
Dad says "that could cost him his job." Nicole calls it unfair. No one whacks
the button though. Answer: Yes (True) Aaron only looks a little worried. NMM
wonders why nobody chose the button option. Dad says they're saving it for a
really hard one. In his defense Aaron says no one has ever died. (Presumably, he
means as a result of his falsifying a report).

Read the full synopsis HERE.

Shout out to Troy, a charter member of the Portland Rat Pack.

Gooch:Out

I'll be the first to admit that it's a man's world. I know that men have it good. We make more money, we gain weight without fear of social backlash, we don't have to bear children.

One advantage to being a girl is the fact that they can masturbate with such a variety of household items. It seems that while men have only the left and right hands to delegate jerking off duties, women can actually use items, produce, and forces of nature to accomplish the same thing.

If I was a girl, I'd line up a masturbatory six-way with an electric shaver, a detachable shower head, an old pager, a bath tub faucet, a cucumber, and maybe even a washing machine with an uneven load. With such an array of items with which to get off, why do women waste time with men at all? Is it because a Norelco has yet to take a girl to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. Hell... I have yet to take a girl to Ruth's Chris. Yet somehow drunk girls are often unable to resist my classy advances.

Another thing (unrelated): women have this "plumper" lipstick which, allegedly causes the wearer's lips to get... plumper. I wonder if I got a tube of this lipstick (I hope they make it in 'clear' or dark brown) and rubbed it on my penis, if it would have the same effect? If you get a blow job from a girl wearing the plumper lipstick, will your dick be bigger when she's done? Would it be like putting a cake in the oven and waiting for it to rise?

Ha!

gooch:available for weddings and day care grand openings.

I was reading the gossip section of a website, because I'm a fag, and I came across this snippet:

British actress Sienna Miller has dumped boyfriend Rhys Ifans - because he was jealous of her friendship with her former lover Matthew Rhys.

Later in the story we learn that Miller left the boyfriend whose last name was Rhys for the guy (the one who is jealous now, apparently) whose first name was Rhys? Is "Rhys" a swedish word for "enormous cock?" What are the odds of dating two people with the word "Rhys" in their name... much less knowing them?

******

I went to the Kenny Chesney concert last night. I'm not a country fan necessarily. If I were to have met Chesney, I would have said something like "dude, I pirated your shit on Limewire before i came out tonight so that I knew what the hell I was getting into tonight." LeAnn Rimes opened the show. I'm not saying that career has slumped in the last ten years, but I think I saw her selling bootleg Kenny Chesney T-shirts in the parking lot after the show. True Story.

I really only knew of Chesney from the sham wedding of his to Renee Zellweger that was annuled for breach of contract, which is usually what happens when you find out after the wedding that the dude was gay. He does have a song about his college years called "Keg in the Closet." Are you the Keg, Kenny? Are you? Don't be ahamed.

gooch:out.

Yee Haw... indeed.

I think you're supposed to take your siesta when you're not, say, behind the wheel.

Car crashes into a bike race in Mexico
The picture alone is goddamned scary.

I guess they're going to beat the Terminator franchise into the ground. Maybe Christian Bale can restore humanity's faith in the Terminator films like he did with the Batman series. God knows he's destroyed humanity's faith in my heterosexuality. Just kidding, ladies. I'm all man.

IMDB: Terminator 4 or... Terminator Salvation: The Future Begins

Gooch and Q-Ball, Montegos, 2008

The cat keeps waking me up between 4 and 6am for feeding. She's relentless. The cat is an expert in tactics to wake humans. Batting at a bell, running her claws down a wall, head-butting me, and jumping on/off the bed are just a sample of the arsenal of insomnia inflicted upon me.

Going back to bed.

goochout

I saw "Sex and the City" last night. There's a part in the movie where Sarah Jessica Parker appears to be sad and Chris Noth says "That's the face I've been trying to avoid."

Yeah... Join the fucking club. I haven't shielded my eyes during a movie this much since 1984 when Arnold Schwarzenegger pulled the heart out of Bill Paxton's chest in "Terminator." True Goochonline Fact: Sex and the City's working title was "Butterface and the City."

At least they didn't take a bunch of 40 year olds and cast them as 30 somethings, which is what happened with SATC's creator's first big endeavor, "Beverly Hills 90210."


The Death Star Battlestation Playset that is my pirated music collection is on full fucking force. My random awesome songs ranging from Zombie to Alice Cooper to Motley Crue to Moterhead to Cypress Hill combined with my sake/red wine medley is fueling this blog.

Fuck you. I could type away and you would have to read this. You can't look away. I'm a train wreck without the humorous subtext. I'm Jonestown without the tasty Kool-Aid.

The cult members in Jonestown didn't drink Kool-Aid. It just made a stupid joke a little less bad. It was some other brand of juice called Flavor-Aid. You just learned something.

In closing: RIP Bo Diddley and Harvey Korman. Recover quickly Kelsey Grammer.

o:gotucho