At the 11:11...

And what's up with Egypt?

A couple friends of mine spent some time in Egypt about a month ago. Of course, their friends joke about how they might have caused the uprising and mayhem occurring today. Last night, as I was falling asleep, I envisioned some sort of Seinfeld episode. An entire scene played out:

[Jerry Seinfeld is sitting behind the driver on a tour bus in Egypt. Jerry sticks his head over driver's shoulder, into view of camera, and starts talking]

"A dictatorship? Really? I can't believe the lack of democracy! I would think after 30 years, you people would do something about this."

[Jerry sits back into his seat, out of focus. Bus driver's eyes get wide and he grips the steering wheel tightly while grinning menacingly]

[screen goes black, text reads "One Month Later."

[camera shot close up of television showing news footage of riots. Cut to George Costanza and Jerry Seinfeld on couch, eyes bulging (in the world of Seinfeld, they always somehow know when what they've done has fucked things up... even across the globe)]

George: "What did you do?"

Jerry: "I just... I just mentioned to a bus driver that they seemed oppressed... that... they have a lack of democracy!"

George: "Well, are you happy now? You caused a coup."

Jerry: "A coup? I did not cause a coup."

George: "You caused a coup."

Jerry: "It's a crazy coup."

George: "A cuckoo coup?"

Jerry: "A cuckoo coup, indeed."

...and then I fell asleep. Seems like a lot of work for the payoff of "cuckoo coup," but that's the kind of shit I drop at the 11:11.

goochout.

New Year's Revolution

Kacey Montoya, from KOIN Local 6: Lack of Coverage You Can Count On.




Last night I spent about 10 minutes wondering about where I spent $7,50, as the cash account total on my Quicken personal finance software belied the contents of my wallet by that amount.

This is 2011, the year following one in which I fudged company accounting (fudged as in the sense of "best guess") and marvelled at the inexplicably large checks I was writing myself for some inexplicable reason. Now, I keep track of everything like a good (and by "good," I mean "one with a pulse") business owner should. I'm almost obsessive about it now, but that's the nature of me: I either go 100% or 0%. This is not a good thing in a world where moderation seems to be the only way to live.

Sure, I've even drank a couple of times this year so far. Both times were designated driven and were for special occassions. Granted, I can take any occassion and make it special enough to drink, but this is a good start.

As recently as a few days ago, I realized how fucking fat I am. No one wants to be fat. They do want to be happy with themselves. I think what a lot of people do is justify their weight in myriad ways: I'm on a diet now, I'm big boned. It's genetic, I'm Kirstie Alley. Mine was that people accepted me as if I was thin. I don't think that's 100% the case now. This is a good thing, as if I suddenly feel exposed and have been shocked into doing something about it. This justification works with everything, now that I've given it more thought (read: any) than what these free-write posts usually involve. Drunks and drug addicts feel since they have a job or take care of their kids when they have them or some shit that their booze induced benders don't really affect their lives.

What the fuck is going on in Egypt? I have an explanation that I'll post at the 11:11.

Salaam,

goochout.

Like a Virgin...

I drank last night. First time in six months. My first drink? Shot of Hornitos.

With a lime.

People I was with, at a friend's birthday party, welcomed me back.

My heart is beating irregularly and I fainted this morning after washing my hands in the bathroom. I have a ground up knuckle and a bit of a fat lip, but otherwise remarkably unscathed. Is this disorientation and fleeting loss of consciousness and arrhythmic heart a result of drinking last night? Who knows. I just don't remember hangovers feeling like this.

Funny thing, I had Taco Bell this morning and my friend had brought "verde sauce." I had no idea that Taco Bell had introduced a new sauce and realized that I had not consumed Taco Bell since I stopped drinking. Booze, sex, and Taco Bell are more intertwined and embedded in my life than previously thought.

I'm going to lie back down.

Cheers.

goochout.

I'm dumb

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Tweet that didn't make it...

If I took three of my friends out for imitation Vietnamese soup, would I call the restaurant ahead and say "Four for faux pho'?"

I didn't post it because it served no purpose other than to make me smile. Which it did. And now I feel stupid.

goochout

I Club Baby Seals

I watched IFC/Fred Armisen's sendup of Portland, OR: "Portlandia." I liked it. I don't think it was as "spot on" as people give it credit for and some of the bits weren't that funny. And... I'm not sure that it has appeal outside of Portland Metro. However, it was funny and seemed pretty Portland accurate (although I've never heard any one make reference to Portland's "North side").

On Facebook, someone suggested "Greshamia," a similar show based on Gresham, the blue collar eastern suburb of Portland. I posted the followup comment.

Greshamia: Where single moms go to retire. Everyone works in a bar at some point, no matter what their educational tract or previous occupation may have been. People smoke while riding bicycles. Greshamia: Where video poker lounges will cash state unemployment checks. Where cover bands are king; why write your own songs when Thin Lizzy and Cheap Trick have already written the best songs ever? Gresham: the answer to the question asked most in high school spanish class: "where am I going to use this?"

The last one was a bit wordy. I'll work on that. Anyway: Greshamia could be even more obscure, really. Ah, an idea that will live only in my head. Where I primarily live. Off to read more Klosterman, drink more coffee, and take more nap.

goochout.

I have a face for radio and a voice for newsprint...

It's Saturday morning, 7:30am. I woke up early, I guess, since I don't really have to be up for another 46 hours.

I've made and consumed breakfast. Clearly last night was not an exciting one. Dinner with a friend and then typing up my chore list and doing my recreational reading while I sat in sweat-clothes and waited for the Tylenol PM kicked in. I challenged the cat to a game of Angry Birds, but she ignored me as she sat in her cat condo in front of a Scarface sized pile of cat nip.

Meownolo.

Thinking of watching the "Portlandia"premier on Hulu. A litle Portland-centric humor might be entertaining. The sun is coming out. Think I'm going back to couch.

goochout.