I bet if I just start typing, then before I know it I'll have an entry to post. That's usually the way it works, anyway. I have no idea what I'm going to write then my fingers just start rambling.

So we'll see.

Seeing as how I was promised an answer to my date proposal by 3:00, and seeing as how it was 8:30 and I hadn't heard a thing, I used my incredible deductive reasoning skills to determine that VigilanteGirl and I would not be visiting the haunted sanatorium last night.

This meant that I was free to do whatever I wanted. So I decided to forgo Rich O's and spend the evening instead at Buckhead's in Jeffersonville. I had visions of yummy Weihenstephaner lined up in front of me, and lovely eye-candy to talk to while I drank.

But noooooooooooooooooo!

The phone rang, and it was SpikeBoy, wondering when I'd be at Rich O's. I thought about telling him that I wouldn't be going to Rich O's, but he just sounded so damned lonely as he told me how dead the place was. Sometimes I feel like SpikeBoy puts a little too much pressure on me to be interesting, but he's probably my best friend at Rich O's, so I told him that I'd be there shortly.

The place wasn't that dead. SpikeBoy and CoffeeDude sat in the living room area. BamaBoy and BamaGirl (new nicknames for those two) sat in the red room. Some dipshits sat at the bar. I sat on the sofa and ordered a Rogue FestivAle (40), then I sent the following text-message to VigilanteGirl:

So, I guess that's a "no" then?

See, not returning a call is rude, but promising to return a call and then not doing it - that's just flat-out mean. See here and here. Anyway, what followed was a brief little text-message conversation wherein I learned that I had been sent her answer at 3:00.

I never got her message, so I assumed that she was blowing me off. She never heard back from me, so she assumed that I had changed my mind about going.

The moral of this story is: Text-messaging is unreliable. Make an actual phone call if it's something important.

So now I feel like a real dick for jumping to conclusions.

As the night wore on, more people arrived. BamaCouple were joined in the red room by a hot blonde girl. Speaking of blondes, CuteBlonde came in and sat at the bar with a friend of hers. At one point, lo and behold, LibertyGirl made an appearance. I guess we had all figured that she'd gotten married or went to jail or something, because she hadn't been seen in months.

So, with the gang more or less all there, we proceeded to yak and yammer about whatever single and lonely people yak and yammer about.

My next beer was a Smithwick's (600).

At one point, my friends bet me that I wouldn't go talk to BamaCouple's hot blonde friend. They don't know me very well at all apparently. I went over to the red room and introduced myself. I told them this joke I'd read in Jill Soloway's new book, and also the interrupting cow joke.

One thing was kind of funny. BamaGirl and I were talking about her encounter with SuperShitHead last weekend. I guess he was really trying to impress her and telling her how integral he was to the operation of the Brewery. I straightened her out on the SuperShitHead situation.

Anyway, because I'd gone and talked to HotBamaBlonde, that meant that LibertyGirl had to go talk to this dude that was sitting out in the loser area that she'd had a crush on for years. She did, and she may have actually gotten a phone number for her efforts. Good for her!

I'm going to wrap this up now as I'm getting quite bored.

My last beer was a yummy Weihenstephaner (199), which had snuck back into the draft rotation when I wasn't looking. After that was gone I stopped at White Castle and came home.

Another weekend gone.