If you want to come, you have my number. I will come and get you if you ask.
We may turn out to be little more than distractions to each other, but I think we may both need a little distracting right about now. I certainly do.
If you want to come, you have my number. I will come and get you if you ask.
We may turn out to be little more than distractions to each other, but I think we may both need a little distracting right about now. I certainly do.
I tell myself that I should just stay home tonight.
I tell myself that it would be fun, I could drink some beer and post entries about my ever-increasing drunkenness.
I tell myself that I could just stay here by myself and have a good time and not end up feeling sorry for myself.
I tell myself that I could stop myself from picking up the phone.
I lie to myself.
I'm going out tonight. To a party held by people that I don't know. Some friends of my sister, so I won't really be crashing I guess.
I tell myself that I won't sneak away just before midnight, and that I won't spend those few minutes as the year changes talking to her in my head.
I tell myself that I won't close my eyes and imagine her standing next to me.
I tell myself that it won't be exactly like last year.
I lie to myself.
Man, what a difference a day makes!
The past two nights had been pretty much unbearable at Rich O's, but Friday night was pretty decent. Good in fact.
I arrived a little after 7:00. It was pouring down rain. There were some strangers scattered around but the living room area was empty except for DooRagGirl and LaptopGirl's ex, who I will start calling WheatDude for reasons that should be obvious.
I ordered an Upland Chocolate Stout (180) and enjoyed that while marveling at our ability to have an actual discussion without having to shout. Mostly we just talked about how pleasant it was. I also made a couple of beer recommendations to WheatDude.
A little before 8:00 HatGirl called me, I guess because DooRagGirl's phone was broken. She wasn't sure if she was going to come in. I handed my phone to DooRagGirl so she could talk some sense into her friend, then I crossed my fingers and toes and eyes.
It worked! DooRagGirl went to pick her up.
Let's see, I talked with SassyGirl. She was on her way for a quick drink or two before work. That's okay though - she just drives zillion-ton trains for a living. But you don't have to steer them.
At about the time DooRagGirl came back with HatGirl I was finishing my second Upland (200), and I'd started my third (220).
I took the girls over to see the port tasting party going on in the new area:
We were very quiet, so as not to startle the port people.
From my fourth Upland, I only drank about half the glass (230). This was because I'd had the brilliant idea of having an Alaskan Smoked Porter put on ice for later. Everybody wanted to try what I'd been touting as one of the world's best beers, so I let everybody have a sip.
I think they all liked it - especially DooRagGirl who tried to steal my glass.
I feel the need to interject here that I'm probably going to have to have a talk with WheatDude. Just because a girl is in a slightly bad mood, that does not mean that she's "ripe for the picking," as he so crassly suggested. Plus I'm a gentleman.
Once WheatDude had left, and SassyGirl had left, and these other two people who are friends of SassyBoy had left, it was just Me, DooRagGirl, and HatGirl. I moved over to the throne and HatGirl moved over to the loveseat. It was like I was in a little cocoon made of hot girls. Hot girls with boyfriends, as I'd had to remind WheatDude several times.
At one point I started craving Steak N Shake, and I decided that I was going. This extra driving meant that I had to cut my drinking off a little early. DooRagGirl was more than happy to relieve me of the last of my Alaskan Smoked Porter (238).
I had a couple Diet Cokes. HatGirl wanted to go to Steak N Shake. DooRagGirl didn't want to go unless her boyfriend could get off work, so I ended up taking HatGirl in my truck. Good thing I'd just given it its annual cleaning.
Well Steak N Shake was a bust, and we ended up going to Denny's instead. This was the first time I'd been in this particular Denny's since about a zillion years ago when I took SpoonsGirl there. The food was yummy, the company was charming.
I dropped HatGirl off at her house and managed to find my way out of that maze of streets, then I came home and dicked around until a little after 4:00.
I've got a couple of days to try to get my sleep schedule back to normal, or Tuesday morning is going to really suck.
(response to message)
Got this PM from somebody in Arizona
if you were nice to people in the bar, they wont be strangers anymoreOkay, first of all, people from Arizona make me nervous as fuck. I really shouldn't be responding to this at all for that very reason. I see Arizona, and I get irrational.
Second of all, you either know me or you don't. If you do know me, then you should know better than to send me anonymous messages from Arizona. You should also know that I'm an incredibly nice person. I'm nice to everyone that's not an asshole or an idiot.
But if somebody comes into my bar and demonstrates that he is an asshole or an idiot (some people take longer than others to do this) then fuck them. Let them go to your bar in fucking Arizona and you can blow them until they're bone-dry for all I care. I'm only nice to the people who deserve it - and the loudmouths that have invaded Rich O's during the last few days do not deserve it.
And to continue that second of all thing that I started back there, if you don't know me, then I don't know you. And if I don't know you then why should I be taking advice from you? You're in Arizona, fer Chissakes! There is, as far as I know, one person in that entire state whose opinion I give a shit about. I'm guessing that you're not her, so please shut up.
Since I'm not going to let myself write about what I want to write about, I'm going to take my frustration out by making the Internet a little bit more boring than it was before.
My to do list for today:
That's enough for today I think. I'm going to go downstairs and shoot some pool.
Got to Rich O's early last night - a little before 7:00.
I'd had this crazy idea that maybe it wouldn't be so crowded that early, that maybe I'd be able to grab some spots in the living room area for when my friends arrived.
Yeah, right. Dream on, Dave.
I ordered myself an Upland Chocolate Stout (110) and sat at the end of the loveseat. There were three guys in the area who all knew each other, but they were all strangers to me.
I should have known that this was a bad sign.
A new guy would show up. Another stranger, and therefore probably another idiot. The guys sitting around me would all cheer and greet the new guy like he was an old friend. Because that's what he was to them. Then the new guy would sit down in the living room area, and the noise level would increase.
This happened five more times over the next thirty minutes. I shit you not.
When I gave up my seat, it was to the ninth member of that group.
I was forced to stand around like a dork for a few minutes, but then I saw that one of the PBDs was leaving his seat at the bar so I grabbed it and spent some time talking with TallLady.
When HatGirl and LuckyFucker arrived, TallLady was nice enough to move down to the other end of the bar.
The theory was that, since my friends and I had three seats right next to each other, we'd be able to talk.
Yeah right. Dream on, Dave.
I've seen it more crowded at Rich O's. I've seen nights where people have been forced to stand for the entire night it was so crowded. But last night was easily the LOUDEST that I've ever seen it. Those fuckers in the living room area were just incredibly obnoxious. I could barely hear HatGirl sitting right next to me, and LuckyFucker may as well have been on the Moon. We were forced to attempt lip-reading with each other.
If I'd never sat foot in Rich O's before, and I'd gone in last night for the first time, I'd have turned around and never returned. Good beer and the occasional hot girl be damned.
So I drank a couple more Uplands (130,150) while HatGirl and LuckyFucker calculated how quickly they could leave without hurting my feelings. I don't blame them a bit. At one point I turned around toward the living room area and said in a fairly loud voice, "Every one of you that can remain silent for one minute, I'll buy you a beer."
All nine of the shitheads became ineligible before ten seconds had passed. Oh well, it was worth a try I suppose.
Once my friends gave up and left, I had myself a half-glass of Upland (160) then a couple glasses of Diet Coke.
DooRagGirl came in and I talked with her for a few minutes, mainly about her boyfriend's "hairstyle."
At the very end of the night I talked with WomanRepellant and EuchreDude about women and romance and stuff. We're all such experts. That's why we were by ourselves.
The nice thing, and the only nice thing, about nights like last night, is that it will never get any worse than that. Last night was as bad as it gets. It's all downhill from there. Or uphill. Whichever one is easier. And quieter.
So I'm in a strange kind of mood tonight.
The kind of mood where I have this urge to purge my mind of the crap that's been clogging it up.
But because of this damn discretion thing I've been trying, a complete mental enema is out of the question.
Instead, I'll do what I've done before, and I'll just start spouting random crap without specifics. Just like last time, these are to a bunch of different people.
If I pissed you off, or scared you off, then I'd apologize except that I haven't the slightest idea what I could have done wrong. So instead, I'm just going to blame it on "woman stuff" and forget about it, and you.
If your eyes were the ocean then I would gladly drown in them.
I can understand the appeal of the familiar, but just because you're used to something doesn't mean that it's necessarily good. You could have been wrong all this time. It happens. People are wrong all the time.
I want to kiss you at midnight this Saturday. I may end up kissing someone else, but I'll be thinking of you.
I take back everything I've ever thought about your boyfriend. He's perfect for you, and I'm glad that you've found him.
I see you reading me almost every day. I take comfort in the fact that you give a shit.
She is simply a distraction, I think. For now.
You should have believed my words, and not my eyes.
I've been invited to five different things for Saturday night. I don't have a clue what I'll end up doing, but I know that I'll wish it was with you.
The feeling of your lips on mine is not one I will soon forget. Scratch that - it's not one I will ever forget.
I often wonder, where would I be if I hadn't found you? Someplace much worse than here, I bet. I hope that the feeling is mutual.
Don't worry about me too much. I'm used to being like this.
I resent you for the distraction that you've brought into my life, but I know deep down that this distraction is exactly what I needed, so thank you.
My patience is neither infinite nor trustworthy. Prove to me that you're worth waiting for, then we'll talk about patience.
For various reasons, you have slipped out of my life, and you are almost a stranger to me now. I miss hanging out with you.
Your wife is hot, but I'm sure that you already know that. Make sure that she knows it.
I still offer you everything you ever asked for, except that which belongs to another. Every day I regret that it's not mine to give. Every single day.
Don't just ask her to come back to you - tell her why you want her back. She wants a reason. Swallow your pride and give her one.
Well my initial plan was to try this evil thing for a month and see if it worked out.
My own opinion is that it isn't working. My hair is just so damn fair you can hardly tell it's there. And there are still some gaps around the edges that I'm not convinced are ever going to fill in. There's also a bit of a symmetry problem.
But my sister Neisha says she'll kill me if I don't give it at least another month, and MixedSignalGirl gave me a grooming kit for Christmas, so I'll be sticking with it for a while longer.
Forgive me for this. I'm having one of those bad face days. Plus the phone always does this fisheye thing with close-up pictures. My nose really doesn't take up half my face.
It is kind of neat though. To look at more or less the same face in the mirror for forty years gets a little old. I only wish this face I still see didn't look so old sometimes.
I was also expecting some gray in my facial hair, but there's none. My dad had very little gray when he died at age 56, so I guess I get that from him.
I wasn't not even completely through the door when HornDog - sitting in the loser section for some reason - informed me that he's drinking the last of the Rogue Chocolate Stout. Fuck. I checked the board, and the Upland Chocolate Stout is still listed.
I order an Upland, and I'm told that it is gone too. Fuck Fuck.
I order one of these:
I was expecting more from this beer for some reason, but I should have known better. This is, after all, the brewery that touts their chocolate stout as "double" chocolate even though it's clearly the weakest of any that I've ever had. But enough ranting. A decent brown ale with a touch of something that I couldn't identify - there's not enough of whatever it is.8:45
Some assholes that I never saw before in my life have just joined me and are *gasp* trying to talk to me. Don't they realize that I hate them with a passion that burns to the very core of my being? Well, don't they?
TallLady has left, so I'm moving to the island to the space that she vacated.
These fuckheads keep trying to talk to me.
This one fucker keeps trying to read what I'm writing, so
HEY FUCKHEAD READ THIS!!!!
The fucker is now complaining about the smoke in here, so I'm lighting three at once.
It worked! He's leaving!
This chick keeps trying to talk to me about port wine, even though I told her I wouldn't drink port if she held a gun to my head. She just won't shut up about port this and port that and how they're going to drink port on Friday and port is yummy and port port port port port.
Hey, the assholes at the bar just left! Finally! I'm moving over there. PortGirl is stunned! Stunned I tell you!
After a small sample glass, I order a half-pint of one of these:
Bell's Sparkling Ale (12)
(draft) Smells like old socks. Looks like a lager. Tastes fantastic. Reminds me of the winter ales from the established Belgian breweries. Apples and other, unidentifiable, fruits predominate. A very surprising beer from one of my favorite breweries. Yummy.9:35
The fuckers in the living room area all suck giant green ones.
Some fucker just sat at the other end of the bar and he's tapping it like he's a drummer or something.
Yay! I miss her! Wait, I mean Boo!
You wanna know what I hate more than people eating at the bar, more than people hiding the ashtrays, even more than strangers in the living room area?
(I'll let the fucker to my left provide the drumroll...)
It's people that start rearranging the furniture like they own the place. They suck.
Half the fuckers in the living room area just left, and it's still full of idiots over there.
I keep turning around to see who's here. I don't know who I'm expecting or hoping for, but it's always the same idiots every time I turn around.
The rest of the idiots have gone. Yay! Now it's just some hot blonde and her gay boyfriend over there. I'm staying where I am.
The Stille Nacht is gone. The Delirium Noel is gone. The De Ranke - I can't remember if I like it or not. I order a Guinness (1020).
FutureDude is trying to start shit.
Upland Chocolate Stout is still here! Yay! I order one! (80)
I've been talking with HornDog. I forgive him for drinking all of the Rogue because he's who told me that the Upland was still here.
Piss time. You know you care.
Advice for women: Don't rub yourself all over me while telling me that you think of me like a brother. This type of behavior is, believe it or not, actually not a big turn-on for me.
Some dude just sat next to me and ordered one of those green beers that SassyBoy used to be named after.
Another Upland (90). Yummy.
NewGreenBeerGuy goes to I.U. but he doesn't know my niece or her boyfriend.
Piss time again.
There's some new hot girl working the Sportstime side of the business. That side gets all the hot girls.
I'm smiling because I miss her.
I'm outta here.
Whatever it was, it had a huge bladder. It never did go to the bathroom.
Last night Rich O's was, once again, moderately packed. I guess a lot of people are like me and not working today.
I arrived at about 8:30 and sat at the island with RealTrainGirl and MisunderstoodGirl. Actually, ReadTrainGirl has got herself a new short and sassy hairstyle, so she will henceforth be known in this 'blog as SassyGirl. Then, so GreenBeerDude doesn't feel left out, I will hereafter call him SassyBoy.
Guess what I drank.
Go ahead, guess!
Rogue Chocolate Stout is correct! Ding ding ding!
It was a nice and quiet night. A bunch of idiots were scattered around the place, but they didn't bother us for the most part. I had a couple pints of the Rogue (418) while talking with my friends and making fun of the idiots, and then, after my friends left I had a half glass of Rogue (428) and then came home at like 11:30.
Then I dicked around the house for a while and then I slept for like 10 hours.
It's nice to have a day off in the middle of the week. Makes it feel extra-special.
...that even though this road is fraught with peril, I've been standing still for a long time. It may be time to start walking again.
I'm also thinking that I should really really really shut the fuck up.
After last night's beer-off I didn't just go home. Nope, I stayed and drank some more. Since I already had my notebook handy, I took notes.
I'll just get a half-pint of each to start. Don't want to seem greedy.
(The beer-off commences immediately.)
Fuck I'm here early. I'd better pace myself.
I keep rambling to Exbartender about how yummy the Rogue is. I bet he wishes I'd shut the hell up.
Tried to call SpikeBoy to tell him about the Rogue. No answer.
ExBartender's "friend" is very quiet. He is drinking Lindeman's Frambroise. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
I have another Rogue (338).
HornDog has joined me. Oh boy.
Two dudes are standing over there talking about playing pool. They are clueless.
RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude have arrived.
RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude have declared that it shall be gay night at Rich O's.
GreenBeerDude has a present that's wrapped in gay wrapping paper.
He made it himself, using pictures cut out from magazines.
I have another Rogue (358).
HatGirl and LuckyFucker arrive.
GreenBeerDude has declared gay night a success.
There are about a half-dozen hot girls in the red room for some reason.
That's all the notes I took.
I did have another Rogue (378) before I left though. Yummy.
The other day I was nagging at Roger, the owner of Rich O's, about the lack of chocolate stouts on tap. After he'd assured me that my beer-off was only postponed and not cancelled, we talked a bit about other beers.
One of the topics was the idea of a kind of customer appreciation mini-festival to fill in some of the gaps between the three big festivals. Roger's idea was that he'd take a single customer and make it a point to have several of that customer's favorite brews on tap at the same time.
This is a great idea, I think. And it's an even better idea if I get to be the customer being honored.
I don't know if anything like this will ever actually come to pass, but it could be a fun little fantasy exercise. So, I'm going to pretend that the first annual DaveFest is going to take place in the Spring.
The rules are these:
If I were able to select six beers and there were no rules, those six beers would be:
I know these things are coming, so I'll just go ahead and reuse this one from last year.
What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before?
Drove almost to the Grand Canyon. Had a rock for a while. Started trying to be evil.
Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I'd wanted to spend more time with people from my past. I didn't do it. In 2006 I'd like to remain sane.
Did anyone close to you give birth?
Did anyone close to you die?
My cat Spook died in May.
What countries did you visit?
Stayed in the United States.
What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005?
Same as last year - a billion dollars.
What date from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
April 9th and August 19th are tied. Both days really sucked.
What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Successfully bottling shit up, fucking finally.
What was your biggest failure?
Thinking that I was ready for something when I wasn't even close, then doing it again a few months later.
Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had several little feverish ailments that were more annoying than anything else.
What was the best thing you bought?
Can't think of anything special.
Whose behavior merited celebration?
Not mine, that's for sure.
Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
You get one guess, and it's not me.
Where did most of your money go?
What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going to Las Vegas in May and then again in December.
What song will always remind you of 2005?
This "Let's Get Loud" song that they play at The Rio in Las Vegas all the time.
Compared to this time last year, are you:
Happier or sadder? Happier
Older or wiser? Wiser
Thinner or fatter? Thinner
Richer or poorer? Richer
What do you wish you'd done more of?
Travelled. Practiced my bank shots.
What do you wish you'd done less of?
Feeling sorry for myself.
How will you be spending Christmas?
Christmas is over.
How will you be spending New Year's Eve?
Haven't decided yet.
Did you fall in love in 2005?
How many one-night stands?
One, and one fling.
What was your favorite TV program?
Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I picked myself an enemy, and I hate him.
What was the best book you read?
Evolution, by Stephen Baxter.
What was your greatest musical discovery?
I don't think I had any.
What did you want and get?
What did you want and not get?
What was your favorite film of this year?
Nothing stands out.
What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Met with some friends and family at Rich O's. I turned 40.
What one thing made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Finding a kindred spirit that understood what I was going through.
How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005?
Same as it is every year - whatever's clean and not wrinkly.
What kept you sane?
Not applicable. Things are better though.
Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I adore Kelly Clarkson.
What political issue stirred you the most?
No one particular issue, but the polarization has become pretty annoying.
Who did you miss?
You get one guess.
Who was the best new person you met?
Don't know if this counts as actually meeting her, but RockGirl.
Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005.
Sometimes even a trickle is too much. Sometimes you have to block things completely.
Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
Same as last year - All in all it was just bricks in the wall.
...that sometimes the cure can end up being worse than the disease.
I should really shut up now.
So I will.
Before going out tonight, I first had to get ready.
Tonight was going to be the big beer-off between two of my all-time favorites; Rogue Chocolate stout and Upland Chocolate Stout.
I was way too excited over a couple of beers being on tap at the same time, but I'm bottling everything else up and I need to have some outlet for my emotions, so fuck off.
Besides, I take my duties as unofficial Rich O's beer reviewer very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that I had VigilanteGirl help me put together a special uniform for tonight's activities.
Behold me in all my scruffy and/or evil glory:
If you look closely enough (not at my crotch you perverts) you may notice a reflective patch on my shirt. This shirt normally says Irish Stout Official Taster on it but tonight, for one night only, the word Irish has been replaced:
At around 4:30, I called the bar and asked Roger, the owner, if he was going to shatter my dreams again. He assured me that both of my favorite chocolate stouts were indeed on tap.
Having thus confirmed that my mission was still a go, I arrived at Rich O's a little after 5:00 PM. Right off the bat, I checked the board:
Yay! They were both listed!
Did I mention that I was excited?
Well, I was.
I ordered a half glass of Rogue Chocolate Stout (318) and a half glass of Upland Chocolate Stout (70), which will hereafter in this entry be referred to simply as Rogue and Upland, and I sat in the throne with my beers and my notebook to begin my beer-off.
With both beers in front of me, calling to me, I tried to remain as scientific and impartial as I could. I alternated each beer through each of the following tests:
Upland: Jet Black
Rogue: Jet Black
Upland: Beige, faded quickly to a thin coating
Rogue: Light brown, lasted forever
Conclusion: Rogue easily wins this contest
Upland: Good chocolate aroma, a bit sharp when inhaled deeply
Rogue: Rich and malty chocolate aroma
Conclusion: Rogue easily wins this contest
Upland: Dryer than I remembered, with a touch of coffee but mostly a slightly bitter chocolate - yummy
Rogue: Tastes like it smells, rich and malty and chocolately - fucking yummy
Conclusion: Rogue easily wins this contest
Upland: A decent thickness, more syrupy than anything else
Rogue: Thick and creamy
Conclusion: Rogue wins this contest by a nose
Rogue wins in a landslide.
I want to make this perfectly clear: The Upland Chocolate Stout is a fucking fantastic beer. On any night in which the Rogue wasn't on tap, the Upland would almost definitely be my favorite. There's not a damn thing wrong with the Upland - it's just no Rogue. And that's not such a bad thing. I, for example, am no Brad Pitt, but give me a try and you'll keep coming back. Unless Brad just happens to be in the room, then I'm screwed.
Saturday night after I left my grandmother's house, I went to a secret thing. It was all very hush-hush, and I felt privileged to even know about it, let alone be allowed to attend.
After that I went to do some more secret stuff.
I feel like a spy or something.
Or a criminal.
So because everything's a big secret, this entry will just be to say that I had myself a couple of pints of Bell's Double Cream Stout (80), and then a glass of De Dolle Stille Nacht (32). All were yummy.
Today I watched a couple of movies, then I typed The World's Longest And Most Boring E-Mail to RockGirl, then I watched a couple more movies.
Right now I'm getting ready to watch another movie, and I'm drinking a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (247), one of several yummy and/or exotic-sounding beers that I've stocked into my fridge lately. I had, before the secret thingy presented itself, planned to just come home Saturday night and play pool and drink beer, so that's why I've all of a sudden got beer in my house.
If there's one thing I've learned in the past couple of years it's this: Shit happens.
Sometimes there are no logical explanations. Sometimes there is no reasonable justification. Sometimes there are no acceptable excuses.
Sometimes, shit just happens and that's all there is to it.
Some of us will fight the inevitable until we're so beaten down that we can't even remember what we were fighting against.
Some of us, however, will recognize and bow to the inevitable, and let the chips fall where they may afterwards.
The inevitable is fucking awesome sometimes.
But other times, other times you look around you, and you see all those damn chips scattered all over the place, and you realize that somebody had better clean up this fucking mess.
You get one guess as to who gets to clean it up.
Actions have consequences, and just because something is inevitable doesn't mean that everyone is going to understand why it happened. That it had to happen. That if it hadn't happened today it would have happened tomorrow, or next week, or next year.
So I'll spend some time cleaning up this mess, and I'll try to remember that maybe it is going to happen again, but there's no reason that it can't wait a while. If it's really inevitable, then it's probably worth that wait.
It was fucking awesome though.
Once I left my sister's house, and the holiday festivities therein, I headed down to Rich O's for HatGirl's birthday celebration.
SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: I was only a few seconds from Dina's house when she called me to tell me that I had a taillight out on my truck. Since this is a time of year that cops are just dying for any excuse to pull people over, I stopped at my house and switched to my Intrepid before continuing to Rich O's. Now this morning I can't figure out how to get the damn bulb out so I can replace it.
Rich O's was, as expected, pretty fucking crowded. After a quick nod to my friends I checked out the blackboard, just to confirm that what I'd been promised on Tuesday was indeed happening on Friday.
There was supposed to be Rogue Chocolate Stout and Upland Chocolate Stout, both on tap at the same time.
I'd been looking forward to it all week. I'd been telling everyone I knew about this special occasion. Mouths all over Floyd County were watering at the thought of these two beers, side-by-side, vying for the title of Best Fucking Stout On Planet Earth.
I spotted Roger, the owner, holding court at the bar, so I went and talked to him about this lack of chocolate stouts. He assured me that both kegs are on the premises, and that either Monday or Tuesday they'll be on tap. Yay!
So, once I'd gotten over my initial disappointment, I selected something from the board.
(draft) A nice roasty chocolate flavor. The extra alcohol, as compared to similar stouts, seemed unnecessary to me, and annoyed me a little. A beer this good doesn't need the alcohol gimmick.Oh yeah - RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude were sitting on the loveseat. I've already said that HatGirl was in the front room. So I spent the first hour or so ping-ponging between them.
The front area is just weird. I don't think I like it out there. But after RealTrainGirl left I pretty much stayed out there for the rest of the night, mainly watching HatGirl and her sister play some card game that I've never heard of called "speed."
Since the Saturnalia board was actually looking a little boring to me, my second beer was the same as the first; another Bell's (40).
My last beer was a half-pint of Guinness (1000).
I didn't say this would be an interesting entry. I had fun, but a couple of things happened that gave me pause. I won't be writing about them here.
Every year I say I'm going to stop giving out gift certificates, and go back to legitimate gifts. Then, every year when I ask my sisters for a wish-list, they tell me that they want gift certificates because they love shopping so much and they never get to shop for themselves and please don't stop the gift certificates.
So, every year, I end up giving out gift certificates again.
This year my laziness expanded. I gave gift certificates to both of my sisters, my niece Bethany, my nephew Cory, my sister's Neisha's husband Chris, and my sister Dina's fiancé Kenny. This is what everybody wanted, but it really does seem very lazy to me.
I always give money to Neisha so she can shop for "my" gifts for her kids. So I'm always just as surprised as they are by what I give them. Like that one year when I gave Devynne a bunch of panties. Not creepy at all.
I always get my grandmother the same thing every year - some Red Door perfume - so that's no effort.
The only person who gets any effort from me at all is the youngest - my nephew Gehrid. For him I actually went and bought toys.
Anyway, last night was Christmas for the Siltz siblings and their kids.
Since my sisters are the only ones that buy me anything, I usually do pretty well. I got a book I'd specifically asked for, and some other pool and/or beer related things that are quite cool.
All of Dina's gifts made her cry. Except the gift certificate of course. I think next year we're just going to hold Dina down and pinch her since she likes crying so much.
Tonight is the annual Christmas Eve At Grandma's House, where what's left of my father's side of the family gets together and takes pictures of each other. I'm sure that my grandmother will cry a lot when she opens her gifts. Even the perfume which she always knows she's getting. My dad used to get it for her.
Tomorrow I get to sleep in.
So you jump from one relationship to the next, and eventually you find one that you stick with. One that actually lasts a little while. Time passes, and one day you decide that you're in love.
How fucking convenient. You're in love with the one that you're with. What are the odds of that?
But that's the way it works, isn't it? You take what you can get, and maybe, just maybe, you find yourself having grown so accustomed to another person that you mistake affection for love. Until you get tired of that person, then you decide that you've fallen out of love.
And the cycle repeats.
What a load of steaming horse shit.
I've got something to tell you. Whatever it was that you fell out of, it wasn't love.
Love is when you don't have a choice. Love is when you don't always have weeks or months or years to convince yourself that this time, it's for real. Love is when you deny your feelings, because this can't be happening, because it's too soon, because this person isn't right for me. Falling in love is not a process, it's an event. Love is when a switch inside you suddenly flips on and then breaks off so it can never be switched back.
And the real thing about love, the thing that keeps you awake at night, the thing that makes it the cruelest emotion of all - is that it's not always mutual.
Stings like a bitch, doesn't it?
So just keep playing your little game of relationship hopscotch. Keep telling yourself that eventually you'll find that special someone. And if you don't love that person at first, maybe you'll grow into it, maybe you'll learn to love that person. Maybe that person will learn to love you.
Good luck with that. Really. Everybody plays the same game, so somebody's bound to win every now and then. May as well be you.
Just do me a favor. Don't profess your love when it's a crush, or when it's convenient, or out of guilt, or when it's simply better than being alone. Don't do that.
Because sometimes, sometimes you'll tell me that you love me, and I'll actually believe you.
If only I could have plucked out my eyes, and sat them on the table beside me, where they'd have an unobstructed view. They could stare forever, never blinking, and never feeling discomfort over their impropriety. "Not my fault," I'd have said. "It's these damn eyes. They seek out what's beautiful. I cannot control them."
If only I could have cut off my hands, and let them explore on their own. Set them free to roam those places where I dared not lead them. "Not my fault," I'd have said. "It's these damn hands. They go where they want to go."
If only I could have peeled off my lips and ripped out my tongue, and let them kiss and taste that which they'd craved for so long. "Not my fault," I'd have said. "That damn mouth, it's like it's got a mind of its own or something."
If only I could have extracted my beating heart, and let it seek out its mate. Let it seek the happiness that I'd forever been unable to provide. "Not my fault," I'd have said. "It's this damn heart. It knows what it wants, and it just goes for it.
If only I could have scooped out my brain, and set it aflame, and chopped it to bits, and smashed those bits into pulp. For it has always been my brain that's held everything else back.
Stupid brain. What a jerk it is. It ruins everything.
It starts with a sound.
Not just any sound, but the sound of a voice from an almost forgotten past. Just a word or two, snaking their way through the din of the crowd. It's not much, but it's enough. I prepare myself, as much as I can anyway.
I think that I'm ready. I believe that I've steeled myself for what will come next. I tell myself that this is what I've been waiting for, that I'm prepared. That I will be strong.
I see the sparkles long before I see her. Walls inside me begin to crumble almost immediately. Pressure that has been bottled up for months is suddenly free and unrestrained. Something deep within me is exploding. I cannot prevent it, and I'm suddenly not sure that I want to.
I see her face.
For a fraction of a portion of a second, I am afraid. But the fear is quickly overwhelmed by something else. By desire. By determination. By relief. By the knowledge that the world is finally right again.
I stand up.
My knees are shaking. My heart is pounding. My very soul is shattering and rebuilding at a frantic pace inside me. I take a step, then another. My legs, miraculously, are still amenable to my will. They are no longer a part of me, for I am naught but a heart on fire, but they obey my will nevertheless.
Our eyes meet.
A million eternities pass by in an instant.
I reach out the hand that I somehow still control, and I take hers into it. The circuit between us completes, and it flows with ferocity. Our fingers fuse together.
But it is not enough.
Suddenly aware of the eyes upon us, I crave privacy for what will come next. I pull her through the crowd, then away from the crowd. She resists shyly, more from surprise than anything else. By the time we reach our destination, a dark and empty room, I'm unsure as to who is doing the leading.
We stop. We breathe. We exist. Together. Alone. The heat from her body warms my very bones.
But is it not enough.
I pull her to me and I embrace that part of myself that's been missing for such a long time. I am finally complete. I am finally whole.
But it is still not enough.
I pull my head back, and I open my eyes.
In her eyes I see, not myself, not her, but us. I see everything I've ever sought, and I see a future filled not with pain, but with desire, and with passion, and with hunger for each other.
In her eyes, I see love. Mine. Hers. Ours. It's all the same.
But still it's not enough.
I move my head towards hers.
Our lips meet.
Something is happening. Something different.
I wish I could describe it more clearly than that, but I cannot. Not even to myself.
It's just a feeling, really. An inkling of a hint that something is afoot, that something is skulking around just outside my peripheral vision. I turn to look, but it moves with me, anticipating and evading.
Whatever it is, I don't think I like it very much. Nope, not very much at all.
I awoke at 2:00 feeling severely dehydrated. Now it's 2:47 and I'm on my fourth glass of water.
This reminds me of a funny story I heard at work today.
This guy was telling EwokGirl and me about his aunt or somebody that was told by her doctor that she had to drink 8 glasses of water each day.
So this lady, as soon as she got up every morning, poured 8 glasses of water, and...
...put them in the fridge.
Oh, did you think she drank all 8 glasses first thing in the morning?
That would have been a funny story. Instead it's just a stupid one.
...that everybody sucks.
Why I failed to notice this before, I don't know.
Maybe because my rose-colored glasses hid the truth, which is that everybody sucks.
To the approximately three people on Earth that don't suck: You know who you are, and you may safely ignore this entry.
Because I missed all of Saturday night, I knew that the only chance I had of making it through the Saturnalia beer list was to go every day after work and have at least one. My plan was to only have new beers, at least until Rogue Chocolate Stout entered the mix. Then all bets would be off.
That plan isn't going so well.
Monday I had myself a Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar (60). I didn't remember having it before, but I had tried it two years ago.
Tonight I started out with a Mahr's Brau Christmas Bock (20), which I've also had before, and which I also didn't remember having before. Neither is a particularly memorable beer, and my failure to recall drinking them before kind of reinforces that point I guess.
I nursed the shit out of the Mahr's until RealTrainGirl showed up. Then, we were having such an enjoyable conversation that, instead of going home for my nap appointment, I had one of these:
Summit Winter Ale (20)
(draft) had a decent flavor, but there wasn't much flavor to it. I kept getting hints of spices and such, but the hints faded as soon as I started to detect them. Good, but not great.
This beer I also nursed the shit out of, simply because I didn't care that much for it. I wonder if my chocolate beer cravings that I've had for the past several months have permanently tainted my judgment. We'll see.
RealTrainGirl wasn't even close to finishing her glass by the time I finished mine, so I decided what the Hell and ordered a half glass of this:
(draft) Tried some the other night and wasn't impressed. Had a full glass tonight and still wasn't impressed, but it certainly went down easier. For all the hops and malts used, I should have detected more complexity. Just a decent beer that does a very good job of hiding its high ABV.
Then, finally, some spots opened up in the living room area so we went over there and talked with TallLady for a bit.
I had just about decided that I'd be going home when, lo and behold, HatGirl and her boyfriend came in. HatGirl was wearing her hat, so I of course recognized her immediately. I ordered myself a Diet Coke and we all just sat around talking about nothing much for ran hour or so.
I should have known, and if I take off these mental blinders and really let myself think about it, I suppose that I did at least have my suspicions. At least on some layer, I even wanted it to be true. Even though it was one of my biggest fears, even though I laid awake nights worrying about the possibility, a part of me still wanted it to happen.
The hints were there, I just chose to ignore them. For good reason I think. Or at least I thought so at the time. Lately I've tried not to think about it at all. Water under the bridge and all that rubbish.
Still to have confirmation, from such an unexpected source, after so much time had passed - it freaked me out a little. Okay, it freaked me out a lot. Because no matter how much I've suspected this, having my suspicions confirmed was a little like pouring gasoline onto a fire that has almost, but not quite, gone out completely.
My feelings flared up, and I spent a few hours enjoying the warmth of that fire.
After a while, though, I knew. That warmth was nothing but an illusion.
I'd reacted to the news the way I'd expected myself to react. I'd reacted, I think, the way any normal person would have reacted. I'd reflexively told myself Wow! This is huge! when in fact it didn't change a thing. I'd reacted like a normal person when in fact I haven't been one of those in a long time.
A secret kept for so long must have had a damn good reason for staying hidden. Signs are ignored for a reason. Hints are twisted into something else, something innocent, for a reason. I had justification for keeping quiet, and she must have had her own. Maybe we even shared the same motive for our secrecy. I don't think it even matters.
When I heard this news, I felt for a time like all of the possibilities in my life had suddenly merged into a single reality. But the truth is, that reality was already in place, and I was already living it. Nothing was changed by the knowledge I had gained. Too much time has passed.
I'm going to stop rambling now.
What's this? A beer report on a Sunday?!?
It didn't start out that way, but not many things in my life live up to the promises made at the beginning, so what the fuck.
After I spent all day Saturday working in the prison hospital with that girl, I was feeling a little ripped off. No beer make Dave something something. Or something like that.
Today, after I slept off the 20 hours of work from Saturday, I awoke at about 11:30, just raring to go. Go where, you ask? Back to bed actually. But I didn't.
Instead I went and got part of my Christmas shopping out of the way. A couple of things about that:
So I got about half my shopping done, and because it was still a little bit early, I went to Buckhead's in Jeffersonville to get something to eat.
This was either a brilliant idea or a huge mistake. I haven't decided yet.
As is typical for me, I first checked out the taps. Did my eyes deceive me? No! That's Upland Chocolate Stout! Yay!
I sat at a table and ordered a beer, remembering to get an unchilled glass.
I tried to divert this nagging impulse that had taken over my brain. I really did try.
I relished my Upland Chocolate Stout (44) and I perused the food menu.
I called my cousin Jeff, but he was busy doing some shopping of his own. He said he'd be at the Hooter's across the street from Buckhead's in a couple of hours though.
I called SpikeBoy, but he was on his way to work.
Once the waitress, who recognized me from before, asked me if "that blonde girl" would be joining me, my resolve was all gone.
I called MixedSignalGirl.
So much for that compassionate disassociation thing that I've been trying.
She made the quick drive over to join me for lunch, and we did a bit of catching up. I told her about my Las Vegas trip. Everything about that trip. She told me about her new job, and that her car (the one that she hit the deer with) had finally died so she was driving a new one.
I'd like to say that it was just like old times, but it wasn't. Something was definitely missing. We both noticed it, but neither of us would say it. Not to each other anyway. I'll say it here.
Whatever it was that she felt for me during the Summer, it's gone now. I looked into her eyes and I saw nothing. Serves me right I suppose.
I had another Upland (60). I'd really like to have a beer-off between the chocolate stouts from Upland and Rogue. It just may be possible, since Rich O's is slated to get the Rogue sometime during Saturnalia.
After we'd eaten I walked her out to her new car. It's pretty nice. We exchanged a hug and a quick kiss, and said goodbye. Perhaps for the last time, I dunno.
Kind of sad.
On the way back to my truck, I stuck my head into Hooter's to see if Jeff had arrived yet. I wasn't sure if I'd even recognize him since it's been about nine months. He was there, and I did recognize him.
I sat and talked with Jeff for an hour or so and had a couple glasses of Newcastle (1760). Yummy as always.
I guess that's it.
A million zillion years ago, or it might have been Friday night, I went to Rich O's.
It was the first night of their Saturnalia festival. A couple dozen yummy rare, seasonal, and festive beers from around the world. The highlight of my beer year.
I arrived at about 8:00. The place was pretty crowded, but not quite as crowded as I'd feared. I managed to grab a seat at the kiddie table, and I ordered my first beer.
(draft) Arrived within a storm of convtroversy, so a bit of a tough reputation to live up to. I don't think it quite managed. A nice dark amber beer, with good head and lacing. The flavor was a little sour - something that I wasn't expecting at all. I won't be bothering to have this beer again.During my time at the kiddie table, I spent most of my time talking with TallLady and GlassesGirl. I also focused most of my attention on the throne, where some shithead was sitting, because it looked like said shithead would be leaving soon and I wanted to grab that seat. To sit in the throne on the first night of Saturnalia would be a rare privilege indeed.
But that's exactly what happened. About 1.2 seconds after the shithead stood up, I planted my butt onto the throne. I ordered one of these:
(draft) Fizzy and a little metallic, which was quite a strange sensation coming from a stout. More coffee than chocolate flavored, so not my favorite even once the fizz had faded.Oh yeah, UplandWheatDude was there. He's one of LaptopGirl's ex-boyfriends. Not that asshole - the cool one. We did quite a bit of bullshitting throughout the night until he dropped a bit of a bomb on me and I sort of shut up. More about that later, maybe.
After a while, HatGirl and LuckyFucker came in and joined us in the living room area. There was also some patronizing fuckhead that I didn't like at all. He basically badmouthed everybody's beer selection all night long. What an asshole.
My third beer was another new one for me.
(draft) A fairly standard tripel with a hint of apricots. Quite good. I wish I could say more about this beer, but there was really nothing special about it.I'd like to be able to say more about Friday. It was a fun night. It was good to see UplandWheatDude, and seeing HatGirl is always a treat. In fact, once PatronizingAsshole left, it was one of the most enjoyable nights I've had in a long time.
But most of the conversations will either remain private or they'll get their own journal entry. So for now, you readers will just have to yawn your way through the beer descriptions.
My last beer of the night was, again, a new one for me.
(draft) Pretty damn good. Higly malty, with a touch of coffee. No chocolate or licorice at all, but still a good beer.Anyway, like I said, it was a good night. I got to talk with GlassesGirl, and HatGirl, and TallLady, and UplandWheatDude, and LuckyFucker. I talked to RealTrainGirl on the phone for a bit. I had fun. It was expecially fun considering how crowded it was. Without the good company I'd have been a basket case.
Cat hair. The bane of my existence.
Cat hair exists in a gaseous form in my house. Cat hair drifts through the air until it comes into contact with a solid substance - usually some dark fabric that I'm wearing - at which point it clings with a tenacity that would make even my Chinese stalker proud.
That strand then acts as a sort of a beacon for other cat hair still floating around, and it all begins to swarm, like moths to a flame, towards its brother.
If I stay really quiet I can almost hear the tiny whump! whump! whump! of all that cat hair slamming into me every second of every minute of every day.
Today the repairman vacuumed approximately a gazillion cubic meters of cat hair from beneath my refrigerator. Enough hair that, if I were so inclined, and if I were an expert in such dark arts, I could conjure up a new cat for every man, woman, and child on Earth, and still have plenty left over for festive holiday decorations.
The repairman couldn't find anything else wrong. "You just had no air flow down there," he told me. "That meant that it took the ice forever to form, if it ever formed at all. You should vacuum under here about every three months."
So that's just great. More work for me, unless I can talk the girl that cleans my house into vacuuming under there for me.
Of course I won't know for sure that everything has been fixed until I see actual ice accumulating in the hopper.
Well, that's it.
No more rock.
I've sent it back to where it came from.
I'll miss having a rock.
It's taking a small part of me with it.
That was its purpose after all.
I watched tonight's episode of Joey - SPOILER WARNING - and at the end, I got a little disgusted by that Alex girl making out with that one dude when she had feelings for Joey.
What a slut! I thought, to be so easily distracted.
I was also pretty disappointed that Joey, upon seeing Alex and the dude, decided not to knock on that door.
What an idiot! I thought, to be so quickly dissuaded.
Man, what an asshole I am. I guess if I keep busy judging others I won't have to spend any more time judging myself.
So what are you supposed to write about when you have nothing worth writing about?
Some people would make up some gripping fiction. Some might write poetry, letting their fingers type what their heart feels. Still others will simply not write anything, and await their muse's reawakening.
What about me? Well I, apparently, write about my refrigerator.
I noticed a couple of days ago that I was low on ice.
I confirmed that the wire shutoff thingy was free to move.
I noticed later that day that I was even lower on ice. I go through a lot of ice in a day.
I checked the icemaker and there was indeed ice in there, just waiting for the roto-doohickey to dump it into the hopper. I took a piece of ice from the hopper and placed in atop the doohickey.
The next morning, to my dismay, I saw that the ice was still there. The roto-doohickey hadn't dumped that perfectly good ice into the hopper all night long.
So yesterday I went and shelled out $129 for a new icemaker and an extra $50 or so for a new water filter since I was at the parts store anyway.
I managed to install these without drowning or electrocuting myself. This was cause for mild surprise and minor celebration.
By the time I went to bed last night, however, the icemaker hadn't filled with water. I figured that something besides the icemaker had been broken all along.
This morning there was ice in the icemaker, but the hopper didn't seem to have any new ice. I repeated my experiment from Tuesday - I put a piece of ice on top of the roto-doohickey and then I went to work.
When I got home from work, the fucking ice was still there, taunting me from the top of the doohickey.
I was back to exactly where I'd started. The thing was making ice, but it wasn't dumping it into the hopper.
But wait! There's more!
This is a side-by-side fridge. While checking the icemaker today I touched the panel that separates the freezer part from the refrigerator part.
The damn thing is too hot to touch!
So something is seriously wrong with my fridge, and now I'll probably have to shell out another zillion dollars to get it fixed or replaced.
Meanwhile, I have no ice. I feel like a fucking caveman or something. But not one from the Ice Age. They had plenty of ice back then, the lucky bastards.
The high point of my day yesterday was replacing the broken ice maker in my refrigerator.
Then I really pushed the envelope by replacing the water filter on the same refrigerator.
I am a wild man.
Well, the hot blondes didn't win The Amazing Race, despite my fervent rooting.
This certainly puts a damper on my plan, which consisted of:
I found myself walking down a dirt road, one so overgrown with weeds that you could hardly tell it was ever a road at all. Only the deep ruts running into the distance betrayed its existence as anything but just another field.
Ahead of me, the road stretched to a horizon hidden in fog. I turned my head to look behind me and saw the same visage. I was on a road between two nowheres.
How did I end up here?
Where did I come from?
Where was I going?
I kept walking. There was nothing else to do.
Eventually, I came upon a fence that slanted in from the right and then turned to parallel the road. Just a picket fence, once gleaming white perhaps but now the faded gray of neglect, the fence accompanied me on my journey. The fence became my companion as I walked the road. Its gaps and its raggedness and its general state of disrepair, these all gave it character, gave it a personality that resonated within me somehow.
I knew that the fence meant something. The fence was important.
I continued to walk, and I continued to wonder.
(to be, um, continued)
Took a long nap after work tonight, from 6:30 until 11:30. I'd planned to sleep for a full eight hours but my cats would have none of that nonsense. They decided to hold an impromptu game of seek and destroy the sheet monster.
The sheet monster of course being by feet, my knees, hands, my groin, or whatever unfortunate part of me happened to be making a lump in the sheet at any particular moment.
My lightest cat, Buddy, weighs seventeen pounds. Happy weighs twenty pounds. Nugget is made of some material so dense that he carries his own gravitational field around with him, and any attempt to weigh him is therefore useless.
So now it's almost 1:00. I've watched the rest of the Survivor reunion show and I'm drinking a yummy Rogue Imperial Stout (62) in an attempt to fuel my creative fires.
I don't think I have any creative fires left to fuel. I've been feeling completely wrung out for the past couple of days. Even when I try to stir the passions within me, I get nothing. I spent a good (just right, not obsessive at all) amount of time yesterday staring at a picture that, at one time, would never fail to inspire me to write something halfway decent.
But yesterday all it inspired me to do was feel like an idiot for wasting a year of my life.
I was talking with CoffeeDude the other night about my 'blog. He'd asked if I was still writing in it. I said of course, but it's become really boring lately. The things that I used to write about are no longer relevant, and all that's left are pretty bland topics. Then, when something interesting does happen, this fucking discretion thing kicks in and so I don't give the subject all of the attention it deserves.
But I suppose, like all other slumps, this too shall pass. Eventually.
(response to message)
Oh yeah? Prove it. What's her name?
I'm totally bored and emotionally wrung-out today. I tried to write a stupid entry but my UPS is broken and it kept shutting my computer off. Rather than attempt for a fourth time to write my stupid entry, I'll post this entry fragment that I found on my computer desktop today. This was to have been the end of another entry. For some reason I didn't post this part before.
But wait, there's more!
People in the know tell me that it's understandable that I'm stressed right now. Many of these people are the same ones that have been telling me for months that I wasn't making any sense. Now all of a sudden it's okay? Now all of a sudden you understand? This pisses me off. Don't pretend to understand when you clearly don't. Don't try to make me feel better when your only incentive is to feel more comfortable around me. If you don't feel comfortable around me, then kindly stay the fuck away.
I am not your doll that you can dress up and pose and show off to your friends.
After Friday's crowding, Saturday night was just what I needed.
I got to the bar a little after 9:00, and stood at the bar and talked with SpikeBoy for a few minutes. He's still seeing the same girl, so I may have to come up with a nickname for her. We'll see.
The rest of the night I spent over in the living room area talking with the likes of CoffeeDude, DooRagGirl, and GreenBeerDude and his friends. Everything was nice and quiet and relaxing.
To drink, I had a Bell's Kalamazoo Stout (95), then one of those Strubbe things that I'd had on Friday (20), and finally a yummy Alaskan Smoked Porter (222), which had managed to sneak back onto the shelves without my noticing.
We had some interesting conversations that I may end up writing some entries about, so I'm going to cut this entry short.
On the way home, I saw that VigilanteGirl was still working, so I stopped and saw her. When she found out that I'd gotten home Friday she was a little pissed. She threw candy bars at me and completely denied seeing me, and ignoring me, when I'd stopped to see her first thing Friday. Women are strange.
|You Are Donner|
Why You're Naughty: You keep (accidentally) tripping the other reindeer while flying.
Why You're Nice: You're always smiling, even if you've fallen flat on your horns.
I've been tagged by allaboutme to do this five weird things about me exercise. I'm supposed to list the five things and then tag five other people to do the same thing.
1. I have this rock. I talk to my rock and take it everywhere. In a few days I have to send the rock back to where it came from, and I'm thinking about throwing a going-away party for the rock. Did I mention that it's a rock?
2. I'll make up new, cat-themed lyrics to songs and sing them to my cats. I make Buddy dance with me while I do this.
3. I've developed the habit of smelling my beer before each sip, to enhance the tasting experience, and now that habit has spread to everything I drink. Doesn't matter if it's water or Diet Vanilla Coke or orange juice or whatever - I'm smelling it before each sip.
4. I brush my teeth, then rinse with this supposedly "cool mint" mouthwash that burns my mouth so much that I brush my teeth again right away to neutralize the mouthwash.
5. When I'm on the phone at home I can't just sit and talk. I have to either walk around or shoot pool or straighten things up - anything but just sit and talk.
I'm not going to tag anybody. I think everyone else on Earth has already done this anyway.
I woke up this morning and I thought for a few seconds that it was Sunday instead of Saturday. I'm very glad I was wrong.
Got home yesterday at around 3:30. RealTrainGirl called me about 30 seconds after I walked off the plane, wanting to know if I was going to Rich O's. Duh.
While I was gone they'd gone ahead and declared Winter here. Temps in the 20s and a nice little coating of snow and ice on the surface streets.
My cats were excited to see me, in part I'm sure because they had no food in their dispenser thingy, but I also like to pretend that they noticed I was gone and actually missed my company.
Took a quick nap. I didn't really need one, but it just seemed like the thing to do.
Rich O's was very fucking crowded. I spotted RealTrainGirl sitting on the throne, but there were no openings around her, so I stood at the bar. I had myself an Upland Winter Warmer (110), back on tap finally, and traded some text messages back and forth with RealTrainGirl about who are all these fuckers? and why won't they leave?
Well, some of the fuckers did leave, or at least they left the sofa, so I went over there and sat. RealTrainGirl was glad to see me. She missed me. Awwww!
The place was very loud. We sat and drank and talked. MusicalHippyDude and GlassesGirl and RedHairGirl were sitting on the loveseat. Some old guy that I don't know was next to me on the sofa. GreenBeerDude and a friend of his came and managed to squeeze in somehow.
My next beer was something new for me:
(draft) A very nice beer, with a good blend of various unidentifiable spices. I got no citrus at all, and I'm glad for that. Quite yummy actually.After a while RealTrainGirl and her posse left so I moved to the throne and talked with GlassesGirl, mostly about how she's going to try to get my sister Neisha to come to Rich O's some day. The last time I checked, Rich O's wasn't located in my sister's house, so we'll see about that.
So then those people wanted to make a quick run to Molly Malone's in Louisville. They wanted me to go, but I didn't really see the point - both girls have boyfriends - so I told them I'd wait and save their seats if I could.
I couldn't. Save their seats anyway.
ProfessorDude asked me if I wanted to play some euchre. Yay! I haven't played euchre with actual humans in years. I ended up partners with a guy I'll call EuchreDude, while ProfessorDude (henceforth to be called LonerBoy) was partnered with some hot girl that I'll call HotEuchreGirl.
At about this time I ordered a Spezial Rauchbier Lager (970).
I think that EuchreDude and I won two out of three games at Rich O's, or maybe three out of five. Whatever, we closed the place down and went over to Jack's to play some more.
LonerBoy offered to buy us all beers, so I had myself a PBR (24) just for kicks.
We played a few more games. I think that EuchreDude and I won the majority of them. At about 3:00 I let PretentiousShithead take my place and I went to White Castle and came home.
Well, I'm back home from Las Vegas.
Just thought I'd transcribe my notes from Thursday before I head out to Rich O's tonight.
At around 3:00, I went up to The Four Queens to check out this Chicago Brewpub that I'd never heard of before. It was a tiny place, so I'm thinking that this may not be the actual brewery. Only one beer looked interesting, so that's all I had:
(draft) I've rated this a little higher than most brown ales because there was something special about it. I don't know what, though. There was a slightly spicy aroma and flavor. Whatever it was, it was good.
Later Thursday I went back to The Tilted Kilt and took a few notes.
I ordered a Rogue Chocolate Stout (260).
The bartender was really fascinated when I was here last year and I told him how we'd met. Back in May, he was disappointed to learn that we'd broken up, but he insisted that my running into her at White Castle a week earlier had been a hopeful sign for us. He even went so far, back in May, to predict that we'd be married or engaged by the time this, my December visit, occurred. I didn't have it in me to tell him the real end of our story, so I lied and told him I hadn't seen her since that night at White Castle.
I know I'm supposed to be winding down this vacation of mine, but I certainly don't feel like it. I'd stay another month if I could afford it.
What the hell, I'll have another Rogue (276).
I'm really going to miss this beer. Even if Rich O's gets it as part of their Saturnalia festival, I should probably drink beers that are new to me instead. It will be tough though.
There she is. Maybe this vacation will end with a bang after all.
I keep thinking about a scared little girl. Can't get her out of my head.
Another Rogue (292).
I've started talking about boring computer stuff with some guy from Chicago.
Another Rogue (308). Still talking about boring computer stuff with the Chicago guy.
She's off. We're outta here!
Had a couple of yummy Alaskan Ambers (2068) with my yummy steak dinner. Got in a really bad mood for no good reason, just a memory that surfaced unbidden.
Quite crowded, so I sit where the cock smokers sat the other night. I order, duh, a Rogue Chocolate Stout (196).
The bitch didn't tell him about my wanting an unchilled glass. Now she gets a penny for a tip.
I couldn't do it to her. It's not her fault she's stupid. So I gave her a normal 25% tip and told her I'd find another waitress for the rest of the might. Let her try to figure out why.
Moved to another table, closer to the window and away from StupidGirl's area.
I was already furious when I got here tonight. Maybe I shouldn't be taking my anger out on the stupid waitress.
There was a girl in the show last night that looked almost exactly like DooRagGirl. I wish they'd allowed pictures.
Wow, this is my last full night here for who knows how long. That sucks.
PictureGirl is giving me that come hither look, but if I go thither won't that be breaking her rule about when she's working?
I wonder what ever happened to RioGirl?
She wanted to know why I was mean to StupidGirl. I didn't think I was particularly mean, but I told her why.
Let's not make a federal case out of it, okay?
I wonder if I should just go watch Lost at 9:00.
I'm a little disappointed that I've had no stalkers this week. None that I know about anyway.
This one chick should get her money back from her implant doctor. They keep sloshing back and forth after she stops walking. Gross.
Another Rogue (212), in an unchilled glass this time. Yay!
All girls with mousy brown shoulder length hair should be required to turn and face me as soon as they enter a room. My heart can only take so much.
It's kind of strange that one of my coworkers is here at the same conference, but I've only seen him twice for about twenty seconds total.
If I was a chick I'd have long brown hair with those kinky curls and lots of blonde highlights. I'd also be a lesbian. A slutty one.
Santa Claus just came in. He's younger than I thought.
There's nobody here to make fun of tonight. Everybody's normal now that Santa has left.
She's off work now. She's tired. It's my fault that she's tired. Hee hee. She's going home now.
Maybe I'd be a lesbian with shoulder length, very kinky, dirty blonde hair. Definitely a lesbian though. Love the puss. Hate the cock.
I think I need a side by side comparison. Both girls are quite hot.
With me in the middle.
MixedSignalGirl always tried to get her hair that kinky but after like five minutes it'd be straight again.
Great. Now I miss MixedSignalGirl too.
Another Rogue (228). It must be the low humidity or something that's letting me drink so much.
I'm moving to the bar. I don't know why.
This goat roper just came in and asked for a Bud Light in a bottle. Upon hearing that they only have it on tap, he left in disgust. I hate him.
My rock is pointy, kind of like an arrow. When I spin it, it stops in some random direction. Maybe it's broken.
Two waitresses and a busboy went into the cooler. When they came out a few minutes later the busboy pretended to be zipping his pants up. It was funny.
I've been surrounded by loud people.
Another Rogue (244). WTF?
Man this place got crowded quickly!
Blinded by the light
revved up like a deuce
another runner in the night
How fucking appropriate. Or not. I don't care.
Friday would be a good date to get engaged. Not gonna happen though, because I'm a dumbass.
Some hot girl is running around with some kind of petition. I don't know what it's for though because she's scared of my evilness.
Holy shit I've drank a lot tonight.
It's not a petition - it's you give her your info and she gives you free chewing tobacco. No thanks.
I think it's her smile that I miss the most, or maybe the way she sparkled.
Alcohol saturation achieved. Ordering food and switching to Diet Coke.
Food has arrived. I'm outta here.
I may find out that I'm not cut out to be evil.
I already know what I don't have as much evil potential as some men. Some guys can grow a full beard in just a day or two. Not me though. I'm just not a particularly hairy guy.
It's just a genetics thing. You can't argue with your genes, can you?
Well, you can, but you're not going to win that argument. It's like arguing with a woman, except that a woman will, every now and then, let you think that you've won. Your genes won't do that. Your genes are dicks sometimes.
But I digress.
What evilness I do have is, so far, pretty patchy and scruffy. So instead of fear from those around me, the main thing I'm getting is pity as people are assuming that I'm homeless and/or deranged.
But I'll give it some more time. Probably until the end of December at least. I suppose that, if I can't become evil in a month, then I can't ever become evil.
And that's just another cross I'll have to bear.
When does a one night stand turn into a fling?
How exactly does a fling become a thing?
At what point does a thing become a relationship?
Do the answers to any of these questions even matter when all I'm doing here is trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, when I'm trying to complete this repair job, patch this hole in my life, but each shade of paint that I try just doesn't quite match?
When I'd drop her, and this, in a heartbeat if only my phone would ring?
I'm not an asshole.
I keep telling myself that.
What a difference a day makes.
To be fair, this was a long ass day, so its difference making potential was greater than most to begin with.
To start, I got to meet Dave Barry. I got a free copy of his latest book, and he signed it for me. He did this because I came to this same conference last year. Therefore I'm special. Like you didn't already know that.
Dave Barry also had a speaking session, which was a very welcome respite from all of the technical information making up the rest of the week. I wish I was funny like him.
Anyway, after the day's boring sessions, I grabbed a cab and went down to New York New York. I had 7:30 tickets to see Zumanity.
After I picked up my ticket I still had a couple of hours to kill. So guess what I did.
Go ahead, guess.
If you guessed that I ate dinner and drank some beer, then you guessed correctly. If you guessed anything else, then you probably thought you were reading somebody else's journal.
I went to the ESPN Zone and had a burger and fries. With this delicious meal, I had one of their large mugs of Fat Tire (85). After that was gone, I talked with PictureGirl on the phone for a bit and sent some text messages off to some friends. I also had a Guinness (990).
The show itself, well it was different. The audience interaction was very funny. I even got to be a small part of it. It's a pretty sexual show. So much so that even the stunts and acrobatics managed to get a little bit lost in the sexual undertones. I liked it, but next time I go I'm taking a date.
After the show, I went over to Nine Fine Irishmen and paid $6.57 for a Smithwick's (636). That's a ridiculous price, even for Las Vegas, so I didn't stay. I went back to The Rio and had a couple pints of Rogue Chocolate Stout (180) which were yummy and reasonably priced.
PictureGirl was working, but she was busy. She'd made it clear last night that I needed to respect her work and not start any trouble or rumors or anything, so I just said "Hi" and that was about it. She's supposed to call me when she gets off work. We'll see.
Last night I took PictureGirl to The Freakin' Frog. Actually she took me, because she drove, but I paid, so whatever.
Back in May, the first time I went to this bar, my plan had been to only drink beers that were new to me. That plan was immediately ruined by the fact that they had Alaskan Smoked Porter on tap.
Last night, my plan was, once again, to only drink new beers. Last night, that plan was ruined by their having Alaskan Amber on tap.
Not that I'm complaining. I haven't had draft Alaskan Amber in two years, since the last time I was in Seattle. I managed to limit myself to just the one glass (2044).
I had to ask for a thawed glass. The bartender tried to argue with me about that. "Most Americans like to drink from chilled glasses," he told me.
"Most Americans can't tell the difference between piss and beer, and they wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this," I responded. So the bartender granted me my point and he provided unchilled glasses for the rest of the evening.
PictureGirl and I grabbed a booth and had some dinner and a lot of that mundane first (and in our case, only) date chat about nothing much. For the most part we just made fun of the other people in the place.
The Freakin' Frog is similar to Rich O's in that most of the women are lesbians. There are beer snobs as well, but this place's beer snobs are all very young and they play chess. They all drink Chimay, and the lesbians all drink PBR or Mickey's.
PictureGirl stuck with Alaskan Amber, and I branched out a little.
(draft) Looks nice, with good lacing. A fairly intense coffee/licorice flavor that didn't appeal to me very much. The high alcohol is fairly apparent. The second half of the glass tasted better to my numbed taste buds than the first half had.
They had a Galaga video game there. I put a dollar in so we could play. I wanted to see how much I sucked after 30 years. Well the machine stole my dollar, so it wasn't as much fun as I remembered from when I was a kid.
Alaskan Stout (12)
(bottle) A decent head that faded very quickly. Aroma was mainly chocolate, with perhaps some cola as well. Flavor was a mix of coffee, chocolate, and cola, with maybe a touch of juniper. A decent and safe beer from one of my favorite breweries.
I don't know if it's a Las Vegas thing, or just a Freakin' Frog thing, but a lot of people were wearing strange hats. There was one guy wearing a gray flannel gangster cap. Another was wearing a straw hat like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz might have worn. This one beatnik dude with a disconcertingly pretty girlfriend was wearing some strange knit winter cap but it had a bill on it. PictureGirl and I, we were hatless.
At one point, we found ourselves watching bits of this Underworld movie that they were projecting onto a big screen TV. Then PictureGirl said not to watch it anymore, we could go to her apartment and watch the whole thing.
We only ended up watching about half the movie.
Back to work today.
Yes, that's right, work.
People back in Louisville give me shit about going to these things, like they're nothing more than a free vacation.
Well there is that.
But the people who've attended these conferences never give me any shit. They know better. Days filled with often boring presentations are just as tiring as doing the so-called "real work" I'd be doing back home.
Having said that - If the thing was in Des Moines or some other boring city, I wouldn't be here.
After nine hours of sessions today, I'm going to take a nap to make sure that I'm nice and refreshed for my big date.
That's right, I have a date tonight. So ha ha.
I know, I know, I'm late. I skipped an entire day.
Yesterday was a long day. For some stupid reason I'd bought tickets for the 10:30 PM showing of La Reve. Probably because I'm a dumbass, but possibly because the other showings were sold out. I don't remember.
Anyway, because it was going to be such a long day, I slept in until 9:30 or so. I just hung around The Rio all day long. I played some video poker, and for lunch I went and had a Rogue Chocolate Stout (126) with my chicken tenders.
Then I took a nap for several hours.
This is exciting, isn't it?
Before I went to the show I stopped and had dinner. With my dinner I had a couple more Rogues (158). I traded some text-messages back and forth with VigilanteGirl and RealTrainGirl, then eventually I took a cab over to The Wynn.
That's (obviously) the outside of where they had the show. You're not supposed to take pictures of the inside but I managed to sneak this one before the show started:
This was a pretty cool show. More dancy and less acrobatic than the Cirque Du Soleil shows that I've attended in Las Vegas. Actually, a large part of the show was ruined for me when The Most Beautiful Girl In The History Of The Universe popped out of the water about five feet in front of me and smiled. I spent the rest of the 90-minute show finding and then staring at her whenever I found her.
When The Most Beautiful Girl In The History Of The Universe wasn't visible I watched the other performers. I really like this artsy-fartsy stuff.
After the show I went back to The Rio. I was thinking about grabbing another beer but The Tilted Kilt was already closed so I just played some video poker for a while (I actually tripled my money, too bad I was playing for quarters instead of dollars) and got to bed a little after 2:00.
Prologue: Same as last night. I sat at the bar and wrote in my notebook when I felt like it.
I arrive and order a Rogue Chocolate Stout (80). Tastes awful because I just brushed my teeth. The solution: Drink faster.
Here's my rock admiring the Tilted Kilt glass.
It's pretty dead in here right now, at least at the bar. Good.
A couple in their forties just sat next to me. They're looking at the beer list. I'm going to guess: Bud Light for her and Sam Adams's for him.
I was off, but not as far off as you might think. He got a Sin City Amber and she got a Sprite. I hate them.
One of the waitresses was complaining that somebody took her picture without permission. I told her that it happens to me all the time. I'm not sure what's so funny, but she laughed and touched my arm. She must want it up the butt.
I'm revising my opinion of the couple next to me. The girl is in her mid-thirties, and the guy with her may be her father.
Another Rogue (96). Fucking yummy.
Another revision. The chick is a pro and the dude doesn't know it. He actually thinks that she's interested in him.
The john just got a black and tan. He's telling the hooker that it's what everybody in Europe drinks. What a dork.
I wonder if every entry I make this week is going to be this boring.
There are some incredibly ugly people in the world.
Some fuckers just sat to my right. I'm guessing three Foster's. I may have to close my notebook as one of the fuckers is being nosey.
Two Grey Goose Martinis and one Bacardi & Coke. I should have known, but my brain is geared toward beer.
I'm taking off my glasses. Watch out ladies!
Steve the bartender is working tonight. We're talking about how freaked out I was at this time last year.
Showed PictureGirl my rock. She thinks it's cute. She definitely wants it up the butt. My dick, not the rock.
A hot girl just sat to my left.
This glass is almost empty. Do I want another Rogue?
Yes. Yes I do (110).
The hot girl left. Oh well.
I can feel myself being pulled to the Southeast. I wonder, if I'm being pulled by her, am I not also pulling her toward me?
Time to take a piss.
A goth couple just sat to my right. My guess: Guinness for both of them.
I nailed it.
GothGuy is smoking a clove cigarette. Now I'm starving to death.
Today I went up to downtown and dicked around for a few hours.
Here's a picture of the famous cowboy on Fremont Street.
To eat and drink, I went to the 777 Brewpub at Main Street Station.
I mentioned back in May, but the Black Chip Porter there is world-class. I had a large glass (69) and chased it with a small glass (81).
Here's my rock being all jealous of my yummy beer.
Now it's time to take a nap before I head back to the bar tonight.
Because even at 7:00 AM, even if I'm the only person at the bar, a beautiful girl will still get up on the stage thingy and dance for me.
I was asked this question via PM today:
What is gained by having integrity, humility, patience, stupidity, etc. ?The first answer that popped into my head is the title of this entry.
Prologue: Today at the airport I bought myself a little notebook. This entry is a transcription of what I wrote in that notebook tonight at the Tilted Kilt.
Another Rogue (48). I forgot to order an unfrosted glass so I'm letting it sit for a while. Fucking frosted glasses. I hate them so much.
There are an awful lot of what my friend Mike used to call "goat ropers" around. But I guess these are real cowboys because there's some rodeo thingy in town.
I like Las Vegas. There's so much opulence here - it's a city built upon the rubble of broken dreams after all - but that opulence, that glitz and glamour, it's not pretentious at all.
There are two fuckers sitting at the table in front of me. They're wearing fucking leisure suits and drinking fucking martinis. They clearly think that they're better than anyone else here. They suck. But Las Vegas doesn't do that, it doesn't put on airs. It doesn't judge and it doesn't cater. It just is, and it will take my money just as readily as it will take the money of these George Hamilton wannabes sitting in front of me.
For all its fakery and all its posing and its pretty wrappings, Las Vegas is still one of the most honest places I've ever been.
To my right is a guy in a cowboy hat being hit on by this fat rodeo groupie. I guess she figures that he's used to riding livestock, so what the hell. He's ridden worse. Maybe.
I deleted her number from my phone back in June. I'm sure I had a good reason for that.
Five assholes just sat at the table to my left. I bet they order a bunch of Coronas.
Four Coronas and one Jack & Coke. I guess I know which one of them will be playing the man at their orgy tonight.
OMG one of them just told a joke or said something funny and now they all high-fived each other. High-fiving white guys really piss me off.
I wonder what happened to the girl from the plane.
I'm drinking too fast, but this is fucking yummy. I order another Rogue Chocolate Stout (64).
The cowboy and the heifer just left together. Maybe I should buy myself a cowboy hat.
The assholes are taking pictures. They're passing the camera around, and each of them is taking a picture of the other four.
Now they've got the waitress taking a picture of all five of them.
I'm thinking about how different this night could have been if I wasn't a dumbass.
Two hot girls just sat at the table behind me. I can't look without being obvious.
I wonder how yeast would deal with Sucralose or some other fake sugar substitute.
The Jack & Coke guy is the only one smoking cigarettes. The others must limit their smoking to cocks.
The girls are from St. Louis and they just asked me what I'm writing. That's all the opening I need. I'm going in.
I'm back out. They're tired. That's okay though. I'll be here for a week.
I'm tired too. My body is telling me that it's 2:24 in the morning. I'm allowed to be tired.
After checking into my room, and managing a fitful nap, a woke up a little after 5:00 and went down to the casino.
First things first. I needed to eat. So I went to this All American Bar place for a burger and fries. That's not why I went there though. I went there because they have Alaskan Amber, one of my all-time favorites.
I ended up having two of them (2024) with my dinner. Absolutely yummy.
This is just a picture of the bar. Exciting, isn't it?
Next, and if you've been reading me for more than six months you already know this, I went to The Tilted Kilt. Probably my favorite bar in Las Vegas, and definitely my favorite place on the strip.
The only person there that I knew is this one waitress. She remembered me, which I will consider to be a good thing because I'm not the type that gets remembered for being obnoxious.
To drink, I had some of the best beer I've ever had the pleasure of drinking.
(draft) A fantastic beer, from the intense chocolate syrup aroma through the creamy mouthfeel to the delicious finish. Beyond yummy.
I kinda wanted to just stay there and drink these all night long, but I'm still, even in Las Vegas, a lightweight. So I came up here to write some journal entries.
Now I'm going back down to drink some more.
Standing at a little bar at the Cincinnati airport, I heard a voice, or felt a presence, or smelled a perfume. I don't remember what it was, but something happened. Something that made me turn around.
It ended as quickly as it had begun. It might be her it's her no it's not her. Same hair, similar body, but completely different gait and, once I ran out of the bar and caught up with her, a completely different face.
But the damage was already done.
My first public anxiety attack, right there in terminal B. I could barely walk, I couldn't have spoken if the need had arisen. I stumbled my way from the scene of my disappointment to the seats outside my gate, and I shook. I shook until I remembered my rock. I took my rock out of its pocket and rubbed it with my thumb for about ten minutes, and finally I felt better.
The plane was completely full. I had the aisle seat, 29D, and there was a hot girl in the center seat. She kept dozing off and leaning against me. Then she'd wake up and apologize, embarrassed for her transgression. I didn't tell her that it was okay for her to touch me, okay not only because she was hot, but also because it felt good to be useful to someone. If my purpose today was merely to be someone to lean against, to be someone who, by my very presence, helped another person get through a tedious journey, well that was fine with me. Better than nothing, which is what I've been lately.
Back when I was much younger and much more afraid of flying, I'd catch myself looking around whatever plane I was on, checking out all of the different people, and wondering are these the people I'm going to die with?
We're all such completely different people. Not just the outward differences though those are the most obvious, but the internal differences, formed from our experiences as we go through life. We are all, by definition and by necessity, different.
But put 200 people on a plane, and no matter what they look like or what their backgrounds are, they're all , for a while at least, sharing the same experience. Perceiving it differently, assigning more or less importance to it, paying more or less attention to it, but for that period while they're all sitting in the same tin can hurtling through the same air towards the same distant destination, their experiences - their life paths if you prefer - they merge.
Of course this happens all the time. You people reading this entry, for example, are all sharing the experience. Every day we encounter other people, other completely autonomous beings, and our lives merge for a bit.
I dunno, maybe I'm drunk.
Wednesday I had a brilliant idea.
I'd go to bed at 8:00 and then get up at 4:00. That way, see, I'd be nice and tired Thursday night and I'd have no trouble at all going to sleep. What a great idea.
So now it's 10:20 Thursday night as I type this sentence. I'm barely tired. I have to get up at 4:00 in the morning.
I guess the good news is that I'm at least packed. Everything except the shit I'll need in the morning like my toothbrush and deodorant.
I'm going to be sooooo wiped out all day tomorrow, but I know from experience that I won't be able to get to sleep until after midnight. And then my stupid internal clock will snap me awake at 3:30 in the fucking morning because of the time zone change.
I guess it's okay. I'd rather be exhausted in Las Vegas than completely alert back here in Indiana.
After work Wednesday, as I said in my last entry, I went to Rich O's to see RealTainGirl.
Checking the board, I saw quite a few beers that looked interesting. One that I'd never heard of before. I asked the owner to describe it, then tried it anyway:
(draft) I just had a small sample glass of this, as I was not expecting to like it. I was right. Had that dirty sock aroma that I associate with too many hops. It was very watery tasting, but had sort of a thick mouthfeel. Hard to believe that this comes from Rogue.Because I hadn't expected to like the Rogue, I'd also ordered an old favorite that hasn't been available since this time last year. A pint of Goose Island Christmas Ale (120) went down quite nicely.
There was something strange going on in the red room. Roger was having some kind of private tasting for a bunch of guys in suits. That was odd enough, but the really weird part was that they had a spit bucket! RealTrainGirl and I decided that they were a bunch of pussies.
Since we were enjoying ourselves so much making fun of the spit bucket brigade, I decided to stay for another half pint. At about the time I ordered my Spezial (950) these people came in:
I know, that's a pretty useless picture. That is a picture of a hot girl carrying a microphone, and another hot girl carrying a camcorder. With them, but not pictured, was some dork with a notebook.
They were doing some kind of profile on Rich O's for IUS, the local small college. The hot girl with the microphone interviewed a couple of the after-work PBDs, then she came over and interviewed me for a bit. She could tell that I was interview-worthy because I was sitting on the throne.
I showed great restraint by actually looking her in the eyes instead of at her chest. The concentration needed for this, unfortunately, also prevented me from saying anything funny. RealTrainGirl was clearly disappointed that I hadn't used my camera time to poke fun at the bucket brigade.
See, this is what happens when I forget my rock. I end up on TV or something. If I'd had my rock then it could have been on TV too.