So why do I keep spouting the same drivel over and over, even long after it's become perfectly clear that it does more harm than good?

Because it feels right in my head. Because it fits onto my heart like a glove fits onto my hand. Because it belongs.

Because one night I leaned against a railing, and I looked at her as she sat and cried on this little wall...

and I broke through the clouds, and I saw how far I was going to fall. And I knew, right then and right there that my life would never be the same again.

That's why I keep writing crap like this.

Because I was right. Everything changed then.

Anyway.

My next stop, after Buffalo Wild Wings, wasn't the BBC after all. It was the Haunted Highland Tap Room. I had a couple Newcastles (4682) and had a little séance. Funny, we only came here once, but this place seems as haunted as any other. Maybe even more than Rich O's, because there are fewer memories competing for attention.

Next, I went over to The Pub. Actually I went to Hard Rock first, but CoolHairGirl wasn't working, so I went to The Pub and had yet another Newcastle (4702) and talked to BikerGirl for a while.

My sister Dina called to see if I was going to Rich O's later. I hadn't really made any plans to go there, but I told her that I'd meet her in about an hour. I invited BikerGirl to come to Rich O's when she got off work at 8:00. I wrote down directions for her, just in case. I think going to Indiana was about tenth on her list of possibilities for the evening.

But at least she didn't laugh when I invited her. So that was cool.

Got to Rich O's a little after 7:00. I sat at the kiddie table with Dina and had another Diet Coke. Her husband Kenny came in after a while. BadPickleGirl came in with some dude, but I think it was just a coincidence that they came in. Unless she's stalking me.

Eventually, I had a bottle of yummy Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1805). Once everyone else had left, I waited until about 9:30 to see if BikerGirl was going to show up.

Then, some fucked-up shit happened.

Then, I stopped at White Castle on the way home.

Yesterday I was all excited to take a trip somewhere. Or maybe not excited exactly. But at least not ambivalent. And that's pretty good for me lately.

I was going to go to either Indianapolis or Nashville. I was going to drink some good beer, eat a good meal or two. Spend the night in a hotel, then come back this afternoon all refreshed.

But nooooooooooo!

About ten seconds before I walked out the door, I remembered that I had to work this morning.

So my trip was cancelled before it started. I decided to play tourist right here close to home.

My first stop was this Buffalo Wild Wings place in Louisville. I'd been craving their naked tenders and spicy garlic sauce since I'd first discovered that combination in Indianapolis a few weeks ago. There are, as it turns out, several million of these places in Louisville. I picked the one closest to the BBC because I thought that I might go there next.

I had a heterosexual Blue Moon (490) and six naked tenders with spicy garlic sauce. I also tried the parmesan sauce. It was all very yummy.

During this time, I also traded a couple of emails with RockGirl. Told her about my aborted trip. She said that she sometimes envied my ability to just up and take off. I replied with this lump of drivel:

Don't envy my travels too much. It's really nothing more than running around in circles, arms flailing, trying to escape this existence.

So what if it's all superficial?

So what if I end up dying alone and unloved?

There are some who would argue that I deserve that particular fate.

Friday seemed like a waste to me. It was a night of going through the motions of being a person.

I got to Rich O's a little before 8:00. The place was full of strangers and/or weirdoes. I sat at the kiddie table and had a couple pints of Smithwick's (1614) while I waited for something to happen. Nothing in particular, just anything at all.

Well, nothing ever did happen, so I went over to that stupid Mac's place to see MisunderstoodGirl and listen to karaoke.

That place was pretty packed. At least the bar was. There were a lot of empty tables. I sat at the far end of the bar and vegged out for a while. I talked to MisunderstoodGirl for a bit before she had to start getting the karaoke stuff set up. She was wearing a Jamaican wig. It was pretty cool.

I ended up having a couple glasses of Newcastle (4650) and talking with two bombshells who'd come in and sat next to me. They're semi-regulars at Rich O's, but I don't think they recognized me. Imagine that. I bought them a round of beers, they bought me a beer. It was pleasant, but I was still just phoning it all in.

Once the Bombshells left, I got bored. I switched to Diet Coke and waited for NotHideousGirl to show up. I called her at one point to make sure that she was still coming. She was, so I waited around.

But by the time she showed up my boredom had reached epic proportions, so I left. I was going to go over to meet WeirdGirl at this new Rock Bar place, but then I remembered that (a) I'd broken up with WeirdGirl and (b) for a reason, (c) even if it was a stupid reason, and (d) I still can't afford to develop feelings for WeirdGirl.

So I went instead to this Jack's bar next to Rich O's and had half a PBR (42) before coming home.

I've thought about it, and I've decided that it's bullshit.

That I don't deserve it.

That I don't like it, and that I shouldn't have to like it.

That I have every right to be irritated.

That it doesn't have to make sense, even to me.

That I'm too fucking nice.

That there's probably a proverb that covers this situation, but I can't think of it right now, because I've been drinking.

That I should have just stayed home tonight.

That it's a pretty clever title, but that I probably should have saved it for a longer entry.

Got in the elevator today, after lunch. Heading back up to my luxurious penthouse cubicle.

The elevator was empty. Except for me.

So imagine my surprise when a voice spoke to me.

"Hello?" The voice asked.

That was weird, I couldn't help but notice.

"Um, hello to you as well," I answered. To the empty elevator.

"Hello, can you hear me?" the voice asked.

"I can hear you," I answered.

"Is this God?" I had to ask.

If the voice had answered yes, I realized with alarm, I was going to have a lot of explaining to do. But I also vowed to ask some rather pointed questions myself.

"No," The voice said. "This is Mr. Smith from XYZ Corporation. Who is this?"

"I'm Dave of course," I told the voice. "Are you invisible? How'd you do that?"

"I'm looking for Ms. Jones from ABC Corporation," the voice, er, Mr Smith answered.

Turns out that it was the emergency phone in the elevator. This Mr. Smith guy had called my company's main operator, and been accidentally transferred to the elevator in my building.

Mr. Smith and I had a nice laugh over the situation.

But now I can't help but wonder. If it had been God, or some invisible man, then wouldn't that whole Mr. Smith on the elevator phone thing, wouldn't that have been the perfect cover-up?

So, just in case, no more picking my nose in the elevator.

More tidbits, because I'm feeling lazy.

---

WeirdGirl finally came back from her trip. She said that I should have gone with her. Well, duh, I already knew that.

---

There are a couple of new bars opening at Louisville's Fourth Street Live this weekend. I'll have to check them out.

---

The only smoked beer that Rich O's currently has is Stone Smoked Porter. They're out of everything else. This sucks, because the Stone just isn't all that great compared to what's missing.

---

I have a hard time imagining her at all these days, but all I have to do it sit down at Rich O's and her ghost plops down beside me. It's a magic place.

---

I wonder if RockGirl is concerned that I'm jealous. Well, I'm really not. Really. She probably already knows that.

---

Tomorrow is a jeans day at work, plus it's a half-day for me. I can't decide which I'm the most excited about. Probably the half-day.

---

Today I texted something silly to HatGirl, and she texted back that she'd email me "later."

So now I can never ever sleep until I get that email.

It's nice to have a purpose in life though.

---

Women are weird.

---

I'm actually working right now. Installing six Solaris zones to get ready for some stuff I have scheduled for tomorrow.

---

It's supposed to maybe storm tonight. There's a tornado watch. I'm excited. I like to sit out on my swing and watch the storms roll in.

---

I should eat something.

Yes, I know it's not Monday. But that song has been stuck in my head for an hour for some reason.

---

Close, but no cigar.

As they say.

I think I need a pause button. Because everything was good for a few seconds, but I knew that it wouldn't last, and I was right.

A pause button would have been a handy thing to have. And a mute button would have been cool, too.

---

Lunch was nice. NotHideousGirl surprised me by showing up. I'd figured she was still sick. WeirdGirl was nowhere to be seen though. Neither was that one chick I went all gah-gah over on Monday.

---

I had fun at work today. I solved a couple of mysteries.

---

After work I went to Rich O's and talked to some dude from PA. His first time at Rich O's. I tried to be a good ambassador.

Also, something strange was going on there with the regulars and the bartenders. Like they all know something that I don't know. Something bad, I imagine.

---

I think I'm sort of taking advantage of a couple of people. One as a distraction from the cruelties of life, the other as a reminder of those same cruelties. Both are much more than that, and I feel a little bad for using them this way.

---

Remember that thing? That thing which, if I'd done, NotHideousGirl would have beaten the shit out of me? Well, I guess Calculon did do that very thing, and he didn't even get smacked. Kind of puts me in my place, doesn't it?

---

I got to see Kelly Clarkson on my TV tonight! Yay!

---

Next week two of my cats are getting shaved. The matted hair has become ridiculous, and my sisters have volunteered to take them to the groomer.

---

NotHideousGirl needs to work on her French accent. Because a Scottish accent makes me think of Willy from The Simpsons. Not sexy.

---

We've recently had a bunch of people from Mexico around work. I've met a few of them. They're all so damn nice! I hope they don't get corrupted too badly.

---

Oh, shit! I almost forgot. I almost died this morning. There was a wreck right beside me on the expressway. I'm still not sure how I managed to keep from being involved. A car cut in front of a truck, and the car got knocked right at me. When I saw the car, it was within a foot of hitting me. So I jerk the steering week and went onto the shoulder. I don't know how that car missed me. A couple of hours later my heartbeat returned to normal.

---

A little nagging part of my brain keeps telling me that I should call her. But I won't, because nothing has really changed.

---

Man, it's late. I should sleep.

It's weird to me that I can get so much joy from the tiniest things.

And so much disappointment when those same tiny things are missing.

Am I a man, or a fucking willow branch?

I like it though. I take the joy when I can get it, and I live with the disappointment when I have to.

I think I've already written this entry that's in my head. Something about one of those metronome thingies, swaying back and forth. Or maybe an old-fashioned scale, like the justice statues hold.

So I'll stop now.

Anyway, I hope that the joy will come back. I miss her it.

I liked to imagine, every now and then, that things weren't as far gone as they seemed to be. I liked to pretend that, anytime I wanted, I could just turn around and there they'd be. All those emotions, walking along behind me at a respectful distance. Waiting and hoping for me to stop, and turn, and beckon them back. To my side, where they belonged.

Well, today I turned around. Whether out of boredom or curiosity or desperation, I don't know. But I turned around, and behind me there was nothing. Just this same old gray plain.

So, that was a stupid thing to do. Because now I know that which I'd only suspected before.

I'm on my own now.

Unless, they're just playing a trick on me. Unless they've snuck up ahead, and are even now lying in wait. Ready to pounce out at me when I least expect it. When I most need it.

I think that would be nice. I don't like it here by myself.

I tell you what, if they did that, I'd never turn my back on them again.

A thought just jumped into my head. An old thought that I never turned into a blog entry, because it was stupid.

A > B+C+D+E+F+G+H+I+J+K+L+M+N+O+P+Q+R+S+T+U+V+W+X+Y+Z

Maybe a little cryptic, but my readers are, by definition almost, smart people. So okay, smart people, I have a question.

What happens when A equals 0?

Today was kinda cool, I suppose.

I had lunch at Polly's Freeze again, and it was good, but this was the second day in a row in which I had to sit in the old people section because kids were at my favorite table. That scenario is all a little too leading and obvious and ominous for my tastes.

Heh, I originally wrote testes instead of tastes. I must be channeling Beavis or Butthead.

I was getting ready for my sister's cookout, and I didn't have enough appealing beer at home. Just one bottle of Spezial, and a bunch of strong Belgians. So I went to this stupid liquor store in Louisville (Indiana liquor stores are closed on Sundays) and looked for some smoked beer. I didn't find any, so I just bought some Hoegaarden White.

Dina's thingy was fun, as those things go. I never quite feel right. Like, I know I'm not a stranger to those people, but I feel like I'm one. So I did my best to stay out of everyone's way. And I really enjoyed the Spezial (1470) I'd brought from home.

I got to see BadPickleGirl. That was cool. And I got to see my friend Eric's wife Teri. Eric himself was a no-show. Something about some cousin from Detroit that I never heard of.

I had one of the Hoegaardens (44), but it just didn't taste very good. I'd really had my heart set on smoked beer. Oh well.

Then the guys all went to pitch horseshoes and, lacking a partner, I stayed with the women folk. If Eric had been there we'd have pitched some games, but again, there was that cousin from Detroit thing.

There have been times when Teri has completely saved me, by giving me someone to talk to for hours. Today was not one of those times. She and the kids left fairly early. BadPickleGirl left shortly afterwards, and I suddenly found myself surrounded by people who've no doubt been bombarded with endless stories of what an asshole I am.

So, I left as well.

On the way home, I stopped by BadPickleGirl's house and watched some TV. And I got my beer glasses back. So that was cool. She's very pretty, and her daughter's very charming and precocious, and it would probably be funny if I wrote some gushing love diatribe about BadPickleGirl, but it just seems like too much trouble. And it wouldn't be that funny anyway.

And now I'm very tired, but I don't want to go to sleep because, when I wake up, I have to go back to work.

Oh yeah. As we were leaving Rich O's, I put NotHideousGirl in charge of reminding me that I was cut-off from beer for the rest of the night. It wasn't because I felt that I'd had too much. It was just on the principle of the thing. I mean, I'd had three Delirium Tremens.

So I got to Mac's and I didn't know anyone. I sat at the bar and ordered a Newcastle (4450). I know, NotHideousGirl had failed in her duty already! And she wasn't even there yet. Though I guess, to be fair, the fact that she wasn't there yet may have contributed to her dereliction.

A couple of minutes after I sat down a cute blonde girl came and sat a couple of places down from me. So I got to talking with her, and that was pretty much the theme of the night for me. I'd talk to CuteBlonde for a while, then I'd go over and sit with NotHideousGirl and her friend Calculon (or something like that) for a while. Then CuteBlonde would wave me back over, and I'd go talk to her some more.

It was a little scary at first, how much we had in common. So we spent some time searching for reasons that we shouldn't just run away together. A couple of little things came to light, but none of them seemed to be insurmountable obstacles to our everlasting love...

...until she said that she thought that Dwight Schrute could beat up Jack Bauer.

So that particular romance ended before it had even really began. But I still spent the rest of the night continuing to alternate between her at the bar, and NotHideousGirl and Calculon at a table. And FutureDude, who had snuck in at some point.

I also alternated between Diet Cokes and Newcastles. I really have no idea how many more Newcastles I had. Some number between three and eight hundred million. I think I'll just say three (4498).

I didn't get to hear NotHideousGirl sing nearly as much as I'd have liked. It seemed that every time she got up to sing I was over at the bar talking to CuteBlonde.

They closed the place down at 3:00 or so, and everybody left. CuteBlonde gave me a hug. I'll probably never see her again.

And this is the part of the entry where I think I'm finished. But then I always think of a bunch of little trivial tidbits that I wish I'd mentioned. So I'll try to think of them before I post the entry this time.

---

It seemed like NotHideousGirl was trying to wing for me at one point. This was a bad idea because CuteBlonde had been convinced all night that (a) NotHideousGirl and I were a couple, and (b) that NotHideousGirl was going to start a fight with her over me.

---

This seems to be a recurring theme in peoples' thoughts lately. We may need to stage that break-up fight after all.

---

This one dude, I shit you not, walked up to the dartboards, picked up six darts, and threw six bulls-eyes in a row. I saw this from across the room and then I went and told him that it was awesome.

---

There was a guy there who CuteBlonde confessed to having made-out with a few weeks earlier. So part of my mission for the night was to make sure that CuteBlonde was never left alone for very long.

---

Right at the end of the night I had a fucked-up phone conversation. Other than that, it was a pretty fun night.

6:45
I'm feeling a little uneasy right now. Maybe I'm simply dreading the after-thunder crowd I'm sure to encounter later. Or maybe it's just the 24 ounces of industrial swill sitting in my stomach. Whatever the reason, I just don't feel quite right.

I'm sitting at Tucker's, waiting for my steak and baked potato and mushrooms. Come to think of it, maybe this place is why I feel uneasy. We used to come here, every so often.

6:50
I'm going to need another Diet Coke soon. 'Cause it takes a million years to cook steak the way I like it. "Burnt," most would say.

6:56
They're showing the airshow on TV, of course. Looks really crowded. Later, they'll show the fireworks, and they'll be sure to waste a lot of airtime showing the faces of people as they watch the fireworks. I think they do that just to annoy people.

---

After that I didn't take any more notes. My steak was good. It was a bad cut, with a big line of fat running through the middle, but it tasted really good. Baked potato was good. Mushrooms were good. My second Diet Coke arrived just in time. Thanks for your concern.

I got to Rich O's at 8:00 or so. The parking lot was completely full. I hadn't been expecting that. Everybody was supposed to be at the airshow. But when I went in I saw that it really was kind of dead inside. Except for a birthday party going on in the special people section. So that explained the parking lot.

By this time my unease from earlier had gotten a little worse. Because I'd eaten way too much. I should have passed on the mushrooms, I think.

I sat on the throne and ordered a bottle of Delirium Tremens (891). A nice light Belgian will often calm down an upset stomach. LaptopGirl taught me that. But by the time I'd finished the bottle, I wasn't really feeling any better. I almost went home, but instead I just moved up to the bar. I think that the way I was sitting on the throne may have been contributing to my discomfort.

So I moved to the bar, and I had another Tremens (902). And I warned the bartenders that I might let out a 15-minute belch at any moment.

Talked to the bartenders, and then a couple I know moved up from the living room to the bar and I talked to them.

By the time I'd finished my third Tremens (913) I was feeling a lot better. I'd never had that 15-minute belch, but I'd had about a million little burps. I know, thanks for sharing.

FutureDude had told me earlier that NotHideousGirl would be singing karaoke at that Mac's place that I don't like. I already knew that because I'd read it in her blog. I wasn't planning to go because I'd been sure all week that NotHideousGirl had been avoiding me. It's this persecution complex that I have. Runs in my family.

But NotHideousGirl came into Rich O's to get something to eat before she went to Mac's. She sat at the bar with me and so I figured that maybe she hadn't been avoiding me after all. Or, if she had been, she'd gotten over it. In any event, after NotHideousGirl had picked at her food for a while, we left Rich O's. I went straight to Mac's, and she went home because she'd forgotten her glasses.

I feel like I'm really starting to ramble now, so I'll finish this entry later.

...I just wanted to say that that was the most fucked-up and surreal conversation I've ever had.

And I've had some real doozies.

But that takes the proverbial cake.

TremensGirl said something last night that struck me as deep, and true, and I told her that I was going to use it, and credit her for saying it.

There's a fine line between a pussy and an asshole that every man must...

Every man must what?

Walk?

Lick?

I'm thinking more likely the former, because it wasn't a sexual discussion. It was more about the two extremes of personalities that guys must avoid. I wasn't really in the conversation. I was just listening. But I should have tried harder to remember the entire quote.

Anyway, I spent the first half of Friday night at Rich O's, in the throne. It was a nice night. It wasn't too crowded at all, and the people who were there seemed to have about the same energy level that I had. I had a couple pints of NABC Jasmine (70), and about a half-pint of Upland Wheat (53). I had a couple of nice conversations with someone from my recent past, conversations that managed to pick me up and knock me down at the same time. I emailed RockGirl.

I left Rich O's at 11:00 or so, and went over to The Pub. There are a bunch of strangers and weirdoes in town for the annual Thunder Over Louisville air show and fireworks display, and I was kind of in the mood for talking to new people.

I ended up sitting with some people from Indianapolis who make the trek every year. One of them was particularly nice, and I talked to her pretty much exclusively for two or three hours. IndyGirl asked for my email address. I'm sure I'll never hear from her again.

Oh yeah, I had a couple pints of Newcastle (4434) and then a Diet Coke to round out the night.

Now I'm attempting to write an entry just because I have nothing else to do. My house is being cleaned right now, and I want to stay out of their way. Also, I don't want to feel guilty for not helping out.

So I'll write an entry about last night, and I'll type slowly to kill extra time.

Let's see...

Um...

Oh, yeah.

I went to Rich O's at about 7:00 or so. The parking lot was completely full, so I parked on Neptune. The crowd wasn't too bad inside the place. TallLady was in the throne, and some strangers were on the loveseat. I sat on the sofa and ordered a Schlenkerla Rauchbier Weizen (86). I kind of vegged out and did my best to deflect any questions directed at me.

Then after TallLady left I moved to the throne and ordered another Schlenkerla (103).

Then the weirdoes started pouring in.

One was HotEuchreGirl. She is, um, hot but she has weird friends. So it wasn't even that much of a chore to tear myself away from her and move to the island. The mass of weirdoes in the living room area took about a second to shift and heal the hole my departure had left.

SassyBoy and that one super cute girl from a couple of weeks ago came in. I sat at the island and talked with them for pretty much the rest of the night. Or, to be more precise, I talked to SassyBoy and somehow lost the power of speech every time I even looked in SuperCuteGirl's direction.

My next beer was going to be another Schlenkerla, but they're out of those now. Thanks to me. So I had a yummy Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1788) instead.

HotEuchreGirl came and sat with us for a while. I moved to the other end of the island so I could talk to her. I managed to scare her away fairly quickly. Probably with all the drooling.

My last beer was a Koningshoeven Quad (432) and it was nearly my downfall. I doubt that I could have had another drop of alcohol even if I'd wanted to.

So, I had a few diet cokes and then came home at around 12:30 or so.

Kind of a boring night.

t h e l e t t e r A
- - Are you available?: I suppose. Physically anyway.
- - What is your age?: 8042, counting all my past lives.
- - What annoys you?: People asking my age.

t h e l e t t e r B
- - Do you know anyone named Billy? I don't think so. I know a Willie. And a Bill or two.
- - When is your birthday?: February 20
- - Who is your best friend?: I'm not sure.

t h e l e t t e r C
- - What's your favorite candy?: If candy bars count, then Peanut Butter Twix. If candy bars don't count, then why the fuck not? They're good!
- - Crush?: Maybe one. It's a weird one though.
- - When was the last time you cried?: Me strong man. Me no cry.

t h e l e t t e r D
- - Do you daydream?: Sure.
- - What's your favorite kind of dog?: The kind that don't care what my crotch smells like.
- - What day of the week is it?: Thursday

t h e l e t t e r E
- - How do you like your eggs?: In Egg-McMuffin form, whatever that's called.
- - emergency room? Once for myself. A couple of times with other people.

t h e l e t t e r F
- - Do you use fly swatters?: My sister hides my fly swatters. I end up using whatever's handy.
- - Have you ever used a foghorn?: Don't think so.

t h e l e t t e r G
- - Do you chew gum?: Every now and then. I like Juicy Fruit.
- - Do you like gummy candies?: Not so much.

t h e l e t t e r H
- - How are you? I'm just ducky. Thanks for asking.
- - What's your height? 5'8"
- - What color is your hair?: Blonde, to my great dismay.

t h e l e t t e r I
- - What's your favorite ice cream?: Vannilla Fudge Swirl. Yummy.
- - Have you ever ice skated?: Define "skated." I slid around on skates once, when I was a kid, but I wouldn't call it skating.

t h e l e t t e r J
- - What's your favorite Jelly Bean?: Whatever kind I don't have to eat.
- - Have you heard a really hilarious joke lately?: Yes, it was about your mother though, so I won't repeat it publicly.
- - Do you wear jewelry?: I'm straight, so unless you count a watch...

t h e l e t t e r K
- - Who do you want to kill?: Nobody in particular comes to mind.

t h e l e t t e r L
- - Are you laid back?: I think so, as long I let myself vent every now and then.

t h e l e t t e r M
- - What was your favorite movie when you were little?: My sister and I used to stay up late to watch the original Time Machine. It was pretty cool.

t h e l e t t e r N
- - Do you have a nickname?: I suppose that Dave is a nickname for David.
- - What's your favorite number?: Don't have one.
- - Do you prefer night or day?: Night.

t h e l e t t e r O
- - What's your one wish?: I only get one?!? Well screw you. I'll find myself a genie having a two-for-one sale, at least.
- - Are you an only child?: I have two sisters, but they're grown up. I"m the only one who's still a child.

t h e l e t t e r P
- - What are you most paranoid about?: What is your reason for asking that? Who put you up to it?
- - Piercings?: No, I'm straight.

t h e l e t t e r Q
- - Are you quick to judge people?: Sometimes. Like if they're an obvious asshole.

t h e l e t t e r R
- - Do you think you're always right?: Me strong man. Me am always right.
- - Do you watch reality TV?: Survivor and Amazing Race and American Idol.
- - Reasons to cry?: I've heard that some chicks and gay guys cry when they get their hearts broken. Or maybe if they stub their toe really bad.

t h e l e t t e r S
- - Do you prefer sun or rain? Sun. Duh.
- - Do you like snow? I wish we'd actually get some snow around here.
- - What's your favorite season?: Summer.

t h e l e t t e r T
- - What time is it?: 6:41 PM
- - What time did you wake up?: 3:04 this morning. I thought I heard my phone ring.

t h e l e t t e r U
- - Can you ride a unicycle? Never tried. I imagine that I would kill myself and any bystanders if I ever did try.

t h e l e t t e r V
- - What's the worst veggie?: Lots of them. Beets are probably the worst. I mean, what the fuck are those things?

t h e l e t t e r W
- - What's your worst habit?: Filling out long surveys for my blog.

t h e l e t t e r X
- - Have you ever had an x-ray? A few, for suspected broken bones.
- - Do you own a xylophone?: No, I'm straight.

t h e l e t t e r Y
- - Do you like the color yellow?: Couldn't think of anything better to ask for the letter Y, could you?

t h e l e t t e r Z
- - Do you believe in the zodiac?: I've seen some things that make me wonder if the personality types associated with astrological signs might be valid. The whole predicting the future thing though - I guess I think that's crap.
- - What's your sign?: Pisces.

Waiting for my shirt to dewrinkle again. Always an exciting time. Time in which to ponder the vast mysteries of the universe.

Such as, I know this one girl who usually pees every ten minutes or so. What's up with that?

Her boyfriend, on the other hand, seems to go for weeks at a time without relieving himself. It's actually a little scary, waiting for him to explode in a cloud of urine. Wondering if I'll be caught in the blast.

I, contrary to popular belief, am not a freak. As least not in this particular area. I pee exactly as often as a normal person should pee.

But I think it might be a good thing to have my guy friend's bladder power. I mean, it always feels good to pee. And it always feels even better the worse I have to go, and the more volume I put out. So, I reason, if I could go for even a few days between urinations, then how good would it feel when I finally did go?

Pretty damn fantastic, I bet.

I know I'd trade my few measly ten-second pees every day for a ten-minute pee every few days. Especially one that felt so good I might not need women any more.

Some braniac should look into this. It should be possible.

Back in November I wrote about how I'd been feeling like Southern Indiana had somehow grown giant hands which it was using to push me away. I wrote that it had been a good thing that I was going to Las Vegas, because there's no way I'd have been able to stay where I was. This place was actively rejecting my presence.

That was a new feeling for me. Always before, I wrote, always before I'd been pulled to faraway places. Then, after Las Vegas or Chicago or wherever had loosened its grip on me, I felt free to come home. I even felt like home welcomed me back sometimes.

Yesterday I had an idea for something to do with my four-day weekend. A road trip, but not just any old road trip. An action-packed extravaganza. Drivel Tour '07, I began calling it in my head.

The plan was simple, yet brilliant. I had four days and three nights to kill. I let a couple of cities rattle around in my head, but none seemed quite right. Not quite enough. That's when my brilliance kicked in.

I'd drive south, to Nashville, and spend Thursday night there. Then, Friday morning, I'd drive another couple of hours, and end up in Memphis. Friday night I'd visit some of the touristy areas that I'd so carefully avoided back in 1998, when I lived in Memphis. Maybe I'd even meet up with a fellow blogger and we could swap some of the stories we'd never written about. I've got a zillion of those.

Then, Saturday morning, I'd drive up to St. Louis, and I'd go to that Growler's Pub. They have good beer there. Or maybe back to Laclede's Landing, and that brewpub that I liked, Morgan Street.

Sunday morning I'd have a four-hour drive back home. Four-day weekend spent. Beer drank. Problem solved.

It was a good plan, if I do say so myself. And I do. It might have even been fun. A giant circle of a road trip. I even briefly considered calling it Circle Jerk '07.

Well, it's not going to happen.

WeirdGirl invited me to go on a trip with her and a dozen of her friends. We wouldn't leave until Friday and, since I can't make up my damn mind, the Nashville leg of Drivel Tour '07 is effectively cancelled. And without that first leg, the entire trip is shot.

I seriously doubt that I'll end up going with WeirdGirl. I can't emotionally afford to develop feelings for her, and that's probably what would happen.

Oh yeah, also my sister Dina is having a cookout on Sunday. The thought of starting that day in St. Louis, driving four hours to get home, then spending who knows how much time at my sister's house, well it's exhausting just thinking about it.

Either one of those things - either WeirdGirl's invitation or Dina's cookout - may have been enough to cancel my road trip. But neither of them were really needed.

A part of me knew all along that I wasn't really going anywhere.

What would be the point? What would I accomplish?

Not a fucking thing.

See, Southern Indiana is no longer pushing me away. I'm irrelevant to this place now. I'm not needed here, but neither am I needed to be gone from here. Like I said, irrelevant.

No faraway cities call to me. They have nothing to offer me except disappointment. Though it does seems a little strange to me, that disappointment can still exist even where there are no real hopes or expectations. I guarantee that it does still exist.

This is all pretty much the same reason that I didn't go anywhere for Easter this year. I saw no point in it. There would be no rejuvenation for me. No real relaxation. Nothing but wasted thoughts and wasted days and nights.

Well, I can do all that right here near home. And, right here near home, it's expected that it will all be a waste.

Tonight was virtual Friday for me, as I'm off work until Monday. So, yay!

There, I wrote something happy. I saw HotGirlsHotCousin tonight, and she told me that my journal was too depressing. I don't know why she should feel that way. I mean, it's not like she has to live my life. She, and all of my other readers, they should all be grateful that they're not the ones having to put up with this bullshit. Reading what I write should make everyone happy, by contrast if nothing else.

Anyway, I went to Rich O's at about 7:00, and I sat with the aforementioned HotGirlsHotCousin and one of her cousins who should probably get a nickname but I haven't picked one yet. Since there was nothing on the beer board that looked appealing to me I had a Smithwick's (1534).

Then, an hour or so later, I had another one (1554).

I spent the vast majority of the night emailing RockGirl and probably bugging the shit out of her. But that's okay. She's tough, and I know she can take it.

My next beer was a Schlenkerla Weizen (69), which smelled and tasted fantastic to me. I even made everyone around me smell it, I was so proud.

Then, I got bored with sitting on the sofa, so I moved over to the kiddie table and talked with TShirtDude for a while. By then I was drinking a Regenboog Guido (30) which I really loved.

At one point I drunk-texted NotHideousGirl. I wasn't expecting a response, and I didn't get one.

At 10:30 or so, a smoking hot girl came in and sat out front. So, feeling frisky, I stole a pen and a notepad from behind the bar, adopted my most professional expression, and went and took her beer and food order. But then the real bartender took over and didn't let me approach the hot girl anymore.

Then at about 11:00 I got really bored, so I went to White Castle and then came home.

And tomorrow, I have a decision to make. What to do with four days off work?

I had an odd little dream tonight. One to which I wouldn't have paid much attention except that it's kinda recurring. Kinda sorta.

I was at my home, in my living room, taking a nap on my couch. My mom was there, sitting on my loveseat and doing crochet. There was a black kitten in her lap, trying to attack the yarn.

I wasn't quite able to get to sleep, and I was tossing and turning on the couch. I fell off onto the floor. Mom looked up from her work and asked if I was okay.

I couldn't answer her. I tried very hard to answer her, but no words would leave my mouth. Just a croak is all I could manage.

I crawled up under the coffee table, where I figured it would be dark, so I could go to sleep. I was so tired.

My mom put down her stuff and sat on the floor and talked to me. She told me that I would be okay, that I'd had a bad dream, and that everything was fine. She tried to reach in to stroke my head, but I kept moving away from her for some reason. I guess I didn't want comfort, I wanted to sleep. I somehow knew that once I'd had a good nap, and after I'd woken up, everything would be good again. If only I could sleep for a little while.

Mom started singing a song to me. Some childhood lullaby. And I started to cry. Mom asked me why I was crying, and this time I was able to speak.

"Because it hurts," I said. "Because it hurts so much. It never stops."

"There there," she said. "It will all be better in a few days."

And then she told me about Thursday. How she and Dad were going away together. On a cruise to the Virgin Islands, for a sort of second honeymoon. How excited she was about the trip, and how she was going to buy me lots of presents, and she'd be back in a couple of weeks.

I felt a little better then. I was very happy for her and Dad. They'd saved up for this trip for a long time. They deserved it. I started to smile, and I started to crawl out from under the coffee table..

But then I remembered that Dad had died.

I became frantic with fear. I crawled under the couch. I couldn't face my mom. I couldn't tell her that Dad was gone, that their dream vacation wasn't going to happen.

But then I remembered that Mom had died, too.

Under the couch, there was a sort of display. Like in a museum. There was a door with a big rusty padlock on it. There was another door, painted red, and slightly ajar. That door scared me. I shied away from it. Between the doors was a pedestal, and on the pedestal were two tickets for a cruise to the Virgin Islands. Both were stamped with the word "cancelled" in big red letters.

Then the black kitten meowed at me, and started climbing up my leg, and I woke up.

First, the black kitten. It had no tail. I've dreamed about kittens like that before.

Second, I was under the coffee table crying about something in particular. Someone in particular. My grief in my dreams is so much stronger than what I feel in my waking life. I definitely notice when I dream about her. Even when it's bad.

But the most recurring thing about the dream was the part about Thursday. I had another dream about Thursday a few days ago. And another one about a week before that. Always the same Thursday. Always the 19th of April. Always the second Thursday after Easter.

This Thursday, I'm taking a day of vacation. Maybe I'll sleep all day long. Maybe, when I wake up, everything will be good again.

This entry brought to you by:

New Albanian Jasmine the Mastiff (10)

(draft) Black with a decent tan head. Strong aroma of roasted malt and a touch of chocolate. Flavor is like the aroma. Mostly roasted malt with a touch of chocolate. And no hop bitterness! Yay! I really like this beer, so I'll probably never see it again once this batch is gone. I'd better drink up while I can.

Today, StalkerGirl completed my game of 20-questions. She got it right at number 20. So, yay for StalkerGirl!

Meanwhile, RockGirl continues to toil. I lost track of the number of questions she's had after 8,000,000 or so. Actually, I'm pretty sure she's just been fucking with me.

Anyway, now I have to get cryptic.

One of my more self-destructive habits, mentally destructive I mean, is that I tend to obsess over whatever I figure is the worst thing that could possibly happen. And then I start playing some horrible scenario over and over in my head until, in theory at least, I become immune to it. Or at least less susceptible to its harmful effects.

That's the theory.

It even worked. Once.

I used to obsess about this one terrible thing. I'd write about it and I'd talk about it and I'd even joke about it sometimes, and then, when it actually happened, I was surprisingly okay with it. Not really okay per se, but I never did implode or explode the way I'd have thought I would. I think my biggest problem was wondering when and/or if I would realize the horror of the situation and then collapse into a spreading pool of misery and self-pity.

But it never happened. So that was cool, I guess. Though sometimes I think that it might have been nice to have felt something.

Now, now I've found myself a new obsession. Once that's admittedly even less likely than the last one. Less likely, perhaps, but a million times more terrible should it ever happen.

And this scenario, I can't talk about it. I certainly can't fucking joke about it. I did try writing about it. Once, in an email. It was completely ignored.

A while back I wrote an entry about something terrible. For a few days I was sure that this would be the worst thing that could happen. But I realized that I was wrong. It wouldn't even be close to the worst thing. Nope, the worst thing is something that I can't even bring myself to imagine with any semblance of detail.

So, in the unlikely event that it ever does happen, I'll be woefully unprepared.

Great, now I'm in a shitty mood. Way to go, Dave. You dipshit.

This entry bought to you by:

Left Hand Smoke Jumper (25)

(bottle) Almost completely black. Huge heaping head. Heavenly smoked malt aroma. From under the massive layer of foam, some chocolate notes rose and made themselves known. The mouthfeel is a lot thinner than I was expecting. Flavor is intensely sweet. Some smoke in the finish. After the first few sips, I became numb to the sweetness, and the nice overall balance of the beer became evident. Quite yummy.

So, I've been toying with this idea all day. This idea of writing something completely honest and straightforward.

Just as sort of a test. To see what might happen if I took someone's words and interpreted them as truth. Words saying that honesty and openness are paramount to her.

I don't think the truth would be appreciated. I think that it would be seen as a series of dismissals and denials. Or even worse, as a mere subset of the real truth.

Why even bother?

Because I could be wrong, that's why.

So, here goes.

Two or three or four times a week, I sit at The Pub during lunch, and I listen to my friend bad-mouth men. I listen to her tell me that all men are assholes, that men only want sex from women, that men are lying backstabbing bastards. That there are no good men in the world, that they're a bunch of apes who are nothing more than a life-support system for a penis.

I sit, and I listen to this. I even nod at the appropriate times. At least a part of me does. The friend part. That's the part of me that climbs out of bed late at night to go where I'm needed, just because I'm needed. That's also the part of me that exits unannounced, lest some word or action or facial expression betray some unauthorized thoughts or feelings.

That guy, that Dave-as-a-friend guy, he's a pretty decent fellow. I think everyone should have a friend like him. I know that I wish I did. Even if he is kind of a pussy.

But there's another part of me, sitting in that bar two or three or four times a week. The part that's not a friend. The part that's a man. The part that wants to jump up onto the bar and scream in frustration when he hears those hateful and hurtful words. And defend himself as the man that he is. A good man. A decent man. Not a lying backstabbing bastard who only wants sex. More than a penis life-support system. Much fucking more.

But, problem is, she doesn't think of me as a man at all. If she did, she wouldn't be talking to me the way she does. She probably wouldn't be talking to me at all.

My hair is, after all, the wrong color.

That's fair, I suppose. She has the same name as a whore I used to be married to. So that makes it even, right?

Look, this frustration of mine isn't even about my friend. She and I, as woman and man, would have many more forbidding obstacles than my hair and her name. This thing with her and me - it's just the most fitting and most current example of what frustrates me.

Why can't I be both? Why can't I be a friend and a man? Why must I fucking choose and, if I refuse to choose, why then is that choice made for me?

I sit at the bar several times a week, listening to my friend bad-mouth men. And I empathize and I nod at the right times. I do these things because I'm her friend. But I also think about what it might be like to kiss her lips, or hold a hug for a few seconds or minutes longer than necessary. I do these things because I'm a man.

Why, I wonder, why can I have a friend who's also a woman, but I myself can only be seen as friend or as a man. Not as both. Never as both.

It frustrates the hell out of me, and that's the truth.

Now, let's see how that truth gets misinterpreted.

And so another long Saturday leads to another long Saturday Beer Report. One in which I'm certain to leave out several interesting tidbits as I strive to keep from rambling on and on and on and on. And on.

My day started when I went to see WeirdGirl for a bit. She's starting a new job and wanted me to check the place out. It's not my kind of place. There's no good beer there, and the stage was an ominous presence. Loud music and crappy beer make Dave something something.

So then I went over to Borders and bought a book and a notebook and a pen. Then I went to The Pub and had a couple pints of Newcastle (4352) with my fish and chips. It was kinda boring there, plus this one bartender wouldn't leave me alone, so I went over to Hard Rock to see if CoolHairGirl was working.

She was, so I stayed.

I had a couple glasses of BBC Alt (330) and talked to CoolHairGirl whenever she'd get a little break. One cool thing was that we were talking about gluten intolerance for some reason, and she mentioned that she'd met a girl at this Third Street Dive place who suffered from it. From the description I was pretty sure that she was talking about NotHideousGirl. So I whipped out my blackberry and pulled up a picture of NotHideousGirl.

It was her! Small world, as they say.

At about 5:30 or so, I got bored so I left Hard Rock. I'd thought that maybe I'd just go straight to Rich O's, but (a) HatGirl was sick, and (b) I wasn't really in the mood for another sausage-fest. So I did something different.

I went down to our local Caesar's casino.

That place was really packed, as I'd been expecting. I'd wanted to play some blackjack, but there wasn't a single blackjack seat open anywhere. So instead I spent about three hours playing pai gow poker and losing about $22.

Then I left the boat and went to this Legends bar there in the Caesar's complex. They always have decent beer there. I sat at the bar and ordered a BBC Jefferson's Reserve Bourbon Barrel Stout (432).

I'd only been sitting for about ten seconds when my phone started vibrating. It was, of course, HatGirl. No longer sick, and sitting at Rich O's wondering where I was. I somehow fought the urge to skip and turn cartwheels all the way to Rich O's. Instead, I texted back that I was down at the boat.

So then HatGirl texted for me to stay where I was, and that she and LuckyFucker would come down there.

Never has an hour passed so slowly.

I spent most of that hour talking to this hooker who was sitting next to me. She and her girlfriend were having a two-for-one special going on, and there weren't any takers. At least up until that point. I reminded her that the night was still young. I also ordered some nuclear hot potato skins and managed to get one of them down without melting holes in my cheeks.

HatGirl texted me again when they left Rich O's, and I started to get even more excited. It was really going to happen. I was going to get to see HatGirl. My heart threatened to leap from my chest.

I nearly gave myself whiplash for the next several minutes, jerking my head to the left every two seconds to see if they'd arrived.

And then, they did!

HatGirl!

Yay!

So HatGirl and LuckyFucker and I spent a couple of hours talking and drinking beer. I had a couple glasses of Newcastle (4364). HatGirl had her usual Guinness. LuckyFucker had the BBC bourbon barrel stout I'd been drinking earlier. A good time was had by all. Especially me. Because, HatGirl! Yay!

Once the happy couple left I moved back to the bar. The hooker was gone, so maybe she found a customer after all. I had a couple Diet Cokes while I unwound, then I came home.

Sometimes, when I let my mind run wild, I think of her body as being like a moibus strip.

I use my tongue to trace a path that never ends.

Yummy.

2:47
I suppose I should write something now. I mean, a little while ago I had such a sudden urge to write that I detoured into Borders to buy a new notebook and pen.

Problem is, I don't really have a topic in mind. Except this one particular topic that nobody cares about except me. One which is definitely XXX rated.

The other problem is, I don't think I like this new notebook very much. It's too small, and the pages have vertical lines as well as horizontal ones.

I'm having flashbacks of the graphing exercises that I had to do in junior high.

Anyway, I'm definitely feeling a strong sense of desperation lately. And I'm pretty sure that I don't like it. Mainly because it's not what I'd expect from myself. It's kinda weird. I'm not desperate for anything in particular. Nope, I'm desperate for something else. Anything else.

Something, anything, other than that which occupies my thoughts about every three minutes.

Yes, I timed the fucker. I was curious.

Because without this elusive something else, I fear that some bad shit is about to happen.

See, I know myself well enough to be able to tell when I'm about to do something stupid, but I don't know myself well enough to have any idea how to prevent it.

I'll use fishing metaphors to describe how my desperation is manifesting itself. Partly because it's fitting, but mostly because I can't think of anything else right now.

For the longest time, I was a spear-fisherman. It was a satisfying life. I didn't get a lot of fish, but the ones I did get were all good. All ones I'd wanted, aimed at.

But sometimes I'd miss. Sometimes it seemed that I'd miss fucking everything. For days or weeks or months or years at a time.

So I always kept a baited hook dangling in the water. My backup plan. Just in case I might get a bite.

Seriously, this fishing crap sounded a lot better in my head.

Oh well, I might as well finish it.

Lately, like for the last couple of weeks, spear-fishing and bait-fishing haven't been working for me. There have been no fish which seemed worthy of a throw and, I've come to realize, the fish who do take my bait are never worth keeping.

So, now, I'll finally get to the fucking point.

For the last couple of weeks, I've found myself doing something different. Something lazy.

Cheating almost.

I've been casting a net.

And I've been catching a lot of fish, but still I'm finding no keepers.

I toss them all back into the water, and I cast my net again.

It's frustrating. I'm starving to death here, but none of the fish I catch are worth keeping.

Maybe next I'll try fishing with dynamite.

Man, I slept half the day away. That's what my dad used to say, when I was a kid, if I slept beyond like 9:00. Well this morning I slept until 11:00. It's so gloomy outside that I guess my body got fooled into thinking it was still just after sunrise.

Anyway.

Like I already said, it was very crowded last night. Standing-room only.

Actually this brings up a question I've had nagging at me.

Is it standing-room only, or standing room only, or standing-room-only? I can never figure out the rules for whether there should be hyphens or not.

So I stood at the end of the bar and MusicalYuppieDude and I complained about the crowd together for a while. There was nothing on the draft board that really looked appealing to me, so I went back to one of my old standbys (or is it stand-bys?), a Smithwicks (1514) that went down very well.

A few minutes later I smelled something good to my left. I turned, and it was ThatOneHotGirl who I'd noticed when I'd fought through the crowd on the way in. We talked briefly for a few minutes. It was nice. I like girls.

Then this one dude left the end of the bar so I went and sat there. OracleDude was sitting at the kiddie table and I talked to him except for those times when ThatOneHotGirl would come over and sit next to me. We talked about beer and the food there and being drunk kids in our early twenties. It was her first time ever at Rich O's. She didn't know what she was drinking, "Some pale ale" is all she knew. I promised her that I'd try to find out for her.

Then a bunch of weirdoes left the island so ThatOneHotGirl went and joined her friends there. I went back to talking with OracleDude, and I ordered a bottle of Koningshoeven Quad (420). I left a couple of ounces in the bottle.

Oh yeah, one of the bartenders was in a really terrible mood. I was actually a little concerned that he was going to go postal on everyone. I was certainly too frightened to ask him for an empty sample glass. I'm pretty sure that he'd have thrown it at me. So, once FutureDude slowed down enough, I asked him for one instead.

Then I poured the rest of my Koningshoeven into the sample glass and took it over to ThatOneHotGirl.

Yes, I was that smitten already. I wouldn't give up that beer to just any girl. But it gave me a chance to talk to her for a few more precious seconds. And to meet her boyfriend. I know, oh well.

After a while, TallLady left the throne and I moved there.

Spent the next couple of hours talking with various semi-regulars and waving at ThatOneHotGirl when she'd turn around and see me. I was in a very strange mood, and to prove that point, my next two beers were Upland Wheats (43). I don't even like that beer very much.

After a while, I had an urge to throw a wadded-up (should that be hyphenated?) napkin at ThatOneHotGirl. Just to get her attention so I could wave at her again. Because it had been a while. I asked MusicalYuppieDude and OracleDude if they thought beaning her with a napkin would be appropriate behavior, and OracleDude said he'd pay me five bucks if I did it. Well, I was going to do it anyway, so I took careful aim at the back of her head, and I let fly.

My aim was a little off - I hit her in the side. But this was partly because she and her entire group had chosen that moment to stand up and get ready to leave. ThatOneHotGirl felt the paper hit her, and she glared at this one girl who was sitting on the loveseat.

Well I couldn't have her being blamed for my misdeed, so I followed ThatOneHotGirl out front and confessed to her that it had been me. That I'd just wanted to talk to her again before she left. So she punched me (hard!) in the arm several times and laughed. I like her. She would be fun to make out (make-out?) with. But then her boyfriend came out from the bathroom and ruined everything. ThatOneHotGirl went off into the night, and I went back to the throne.

At least OracleDude owes me five bucks.

And this is about the point where my last entry picked up.

Or it is picked-up?

Those damn hyphens. They confuse me.

I should have asked her what her name was.

Tonight is was totally crowded as fuck. There was no good beer on tap. So I stuck to girlie beers.

The highlight of the night, by far, was ThatOneHotGirl.

I wish I'd learned her name. So I'd know what to scream later as I totally ravished her in my dreams.

After ThatOneHotGirl left, Rich O's went back to its regular sausage-fest mode. I became bored very quickly.

I texted HatGirl, but she's sick. I texted NotHideousGirl, but she's totally too smart to get trapped in my web. I emailed RockGirl, but she's 712 miles away.

So I just came home.

It was either that, or do something totally stupid involving someone who's totally better off without me.

Luckily the girlie beers I drank tonight prevented total stupidity.

I'm sitting here working, at 11:54. I only point this out so people will feel sorry for me. Because nobody ever had to work this late before.

I'm installing Solaris on a new server, and doing other crap to get it ready for the Oracle people. Like right now I'm putting on the latest recommended patch cluster. Type and wait, type and wait. It's not like I've been working nonstop since this morning, but it feels that way sometimes.

And I find myself, once again, several days late on journal entries. Oh well.

On Saturday during lunch, BikerGirl told me that something was wrong with the Newcastle. She was right. It just tasted a little strange. Not really bad, but not like the Newcastle I've become used to in The Pub.

Then, on Monday, the Newcastle was still a little off. I didn't really care for it that much. I figured that it might be a bad keg, and I vowed that I'd switch to Young's Double Chocolate Stout until it was changed.

Well, they changed it. Not only did they change it from an old, empty keg to a new, full keg - they also changed it from some other beer back to Newcastle. I'm not really sure what I'd been drinking. I thought maybe Tetley's, BikerGirl thought maybe Fuller's ESB. Whatever. The Newcastle is back now. So, yay!

Now I'm installing all of the companion software. This step sucks, because at the end there's a bunch of network traffic, and my wireless router always dies and has to be rebooted.

Let's see, today NotHideousGirl was a no-show at lunch. That's okay though. I talked to BikerGirl, and I emailed RockGirl, and I texted HatGirl. Tomorrow I'll be a no-show myself, as I've got a dental appointment in the afternoon so I'll be taking the last half of the day off.

Speaking of HatGirl, if I don't see her this weekend, that will make it at least eleven billion years since I've enjoyed that privilege. This is about the point where I start to freak out. So the text messages today helped my mood immensely. The time limit before I'd freak out from lack of HatGirl used to be about thirty seconds, so I have been getting better.

Or caring less, I'm not sure. I can feel myself wanting to pull away before she moves away. I don't like this childish desire, but I like the cause even less. Consciously I'm still in denial over the whole thing, but I guess that my subconscious is starting to get a clue. It's going to happen.

Great, now I'm sad.

Anyway, the other day I was talking to a PBD at Rich O's who's just as disgusted with the current state of affairs as I am. So it's good to know that I'm not the only one. I've actually caught myself wondering if the brewer there even likes beer.

And, now the companion software is done installing, so I'll hit the "Exit" button on the little installer GUI, and my network will die...

...and it's back. I had to power-cycle my router.

So now it's back to work.

(Copied from NotHideousGirl. The questions. Not the answers.)

1. Would you get back with your last ex if you could?
Yes.

2. What color shirt are you wearing?
Reddish.

3. Would you kiss anyone on your friends list?
Sure.

4. Do you have a 'thing' for someone on your friends list?
Again with the friends list crap. I only have four. Kinda hard to be secretive with only four.

5. How many people on your top friends list do you know in real life?
Three out of four.

6. How many kids do you want to have?
Ewwww, that's gross, you pervert. Oh, wait, maybe you mean "have" as in "be the parent of." I dunno.

7. Do you have a good relationship with your parents?
Yes. Maybe a little distant, but not strained at all.

8. What name would you want besides the one you have?
Majesty.

9. Would you ever make out with someone of the same sex?
I can't see that ever happening.

10. What did you do for your last birthday?
Took the day off work. Got a new driver's license. Bought a new sink. Just dicked around mostly.

11. What's your main ringtone on your phone?
It sounds like the cellphones from the show 24.

12. What time did you wake up today?
6:55

13. What were you doing two nights ago?
Playing Far Cry for the gazillionth time.

14. Do you like having your hair pulled?
I'd have to say no.

15. Name something you can't wait to do?
Finish this survey.

16. Last time you saw your mom?
In the casket, almost 20 years ago. Thanks for asking.

17. What is one thing you wish you could change about yourself?
Nothing. I'm totally perfect just as I am.

18. If you had $250,000, what would you do with it?
Two chicks at the same time!

19. how long have you worked at your current job?
About five and a half years.

20. Have you ever talked to Tom?
That one dude who used to work at the liquor store? I saw him at Rich O's over the weekend. What an odd question.

22. Last thing you ate?
Some chocolate egg thingies that some asshole left laying around.

23. What's your favorite month?
June I guess.

24. Your least favorite month?
January.

25. What's the last piece of clothing someone borrowed from you?
MixedSignalGirl still has my blue jacket. So I'm not sure that counts as a loan anymore.

26. Who is getting on your nerves right now?
The fucker that left the chocolate eggs here to taunt me.

27. Most visited webpage?
Fark.

28. Last person you text messaged?
NotHideousGirl.

29. Last person to make you sad?
Thinking about HatGirl moving away. I'm not sure if that counts, though, because she didn't make me sad, I did it myself.

30. Would you take a bullet for your best friend?
If I ever get one of those "best friend" things, I'll be able to answer for sure. Probably yes though.

31. Favorite kind of drink?
Smoked beer.

32. Favorite food?
Recently it's been tacos.

33. Favorite dessert?
I dunno. A cigarette?

34. Have you been to Europe?
Briefly, but I didn't even get to leave the plane.

35. If someone you hated died, what would you do?
I guess smile or something.

If you answered all of these honestly, re-post this as 'Don't Lie Survey'

Somebody recently asked me, "Who's your distraction from your distraction?"

Really, it was a reasonable question. Maybe you had to be there.

I think I answered, "Nobody," or something like that. I didn't really pay attention to what I said because I was busy staring into her eyes, trying to find something hinting at the answer she wanted me to give.

I didn't find any hints in her eyes that day. So I just blurted out the truth. Good thing, I guess. One less lie to have to keep track of.

It wasn't really a very fun conversation.

I forget where I was going with this.

Probably to some place where I say that maybe I don't want any more distractions. That maybe I don't need any more distractions. That maybe what I really want and need is some time to grieve.

Let my distractions fail me and leave me, as they will surely do. As they all eventually do. I'm tired of them building on each other anyway. Feeding off of each other.

I bet it will be interesting, though, to see which one is left standing triumphant at the end.

I'm in a strange mood.

A typical day at work for me:

Coworker #1: Dave, you're fucking awesome.

Coworker #2: You just saved my project again, Dave. Thank you so much.

Coworker #3: Dave, whatever they're paying you, it's not enough. You're irreplaceable.

A typical performance review day at work for me:

Boss #1: You suck, Dave. I'd kill you right now if I wasn't worried about staining my clothes.

Boss #2: What was your name again? Are you sure you work here?

Boss #3: I think I stepped in some dog shit. Oh, wait, it's just you.

First, I find it amusing, to think of the gears that might start turning in pretty little heads, when I write an entry like my last one. Beautiful brows furrowing as lovely lasses try to figure out if I could have dreamed about them. Praying to whatever god(s) they believe in that it wasn't them that I slaked and sullied in my dream.

Like I said, I find it amusing, that I can create fear and concern in another person so easily but passion, passion remains a burden I must shoulder alone.

Okay, so maybe that last part isn't quite so funny to me.

Anyway.

Today I was trying to think of the craziest thing I could do. I do that a lot. Not that I intend to ever do any of these crazy things. They're just fun to think about every now and then. Plus, thinking about them kind of reminds me of where I've been. And not doing them gives grudging acknowledgment that I'm not there anymore.

Today I was thinking about getting married.

Oh, and the girl I'd marry? She wouldn't be there, and she wouldn't even know about it. But I'd still vow to love her and honor her and cherish her.

Actually, I already do all of those things. Maybe, in my heart, I'm already married. Maybe I just need to admit it to myself.

I'll probably have more to write about this, but for now I've got to try to remember why it's crazy. Right now, it seems perfectly reasonable. Expected even.

It would practically be a crime against love itself if I didn't do it.

I just had the nicest little strange dream.

You said something sweet to me, and I kissed you ever so softly.

Then, when your lips parted, I kissed you much more passionately.

I'm awake now, but I like to think that our dream selves continue that kiss, even now.

This entry brought to you by...

Allagash Four (22)

(bottle) Hazy brown. Minimal head. Aroma is complex and very strong, with malts and hops and nothing else. Flavor is mostly weird malts. Most Belgian quads feature dark fruit flavors, this is all malts. The two inches of sediment in the bottom of the bottle grossed me out. Overall, not bad, not great.

I'd bet that if bloggers took that advice to heart, then there'd be no bloggers.

Anyway, today I'm pissed. At pretty much the entire world.

I think I just get tired of hearing the same bullshit over and over, only to see it contradicted just as fiercely via actions and inactions.

Those two things speak louder than words. Actually, words don't speak at all. They mean nothing. They are hollow.

This is why I've given up. Because I've stopped listening to you people out there. Telling me how great I am, then turning your noses up at me when I show some emotion you don't agree with or understand. Offering comfort, but only so you'll feel less uneasy around me. Spouting advice, when you haven't a fucking clue as to what's happened to me.

It's all so fucking convenient, to seek my friendship when you need it. I'm always there. Where else would I go? But let me fucking need you, and you scatter like cockroaches in the middle of the night when the light is suddenly turned on. Because I don't fit into your mold. Because suddenly I'm the needy one. You reject the reality of the situation. You reject the truth. You reject me.

Today, I'm pissed. At pretty much the entire world.

When I left my house today, when I was driving to the mall, there was a red car coming the other way.

I think that the girl driving the red car waved at me, but it happened too quickly for me to be sure.

I think it might have been VigilanteGirl!

That would be cool. It would be even more cool if I'd get to talk to her again. I miss her.

Okay, fucking fine.

Today was kind of a weird day for me. Weird in a way that I'm not really sure I can describe. Or that I should describe.

The thing is, I'm thinking that I should probably be more sad than I am. Meanwhile, I should also be more happy than I am. Since I'm neither happy nor sad, despite various conspiracies, I'll just call it a weird day.

First, I went shopping again. Bought some work clothes.

I know, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Then I went over to The Pub and talked with BikerGirl for a bit while I had a Newcastle (4232). That was about the time when I figured that I'd managed to alienate both HatGirl and NotHideousGirl in the same week. This should have bothered me, but it didn't. At least, not as much as I'd have thought.

Then I called MixedSignalGirl.

I know, I'm not supposed to do that anymore. But I had a good reason, and I'm pretty sure that she'd agree that I had a good reason.

You know that bullshit saying about If you love something let it go blah blah blah? Well I'm testing that saying, and it sucks. Big giant green ones.

Then I came home and took a nap. I dreamed about my ex-wife. That always pisses me off. There are a gazillion people more worthy of my dreams than her. Oh well.

Then I went to Rich O's. I had a couple glasses of Fastenbier (132) and talked with some of the guys I know.

The place was a total sausage-fest tonight. Even more than usual.

Plus, I kinda got the feeling that FutureDude was irritated with me. I may have violated one of my prime directives: Never piss off a bartender.

Anyway.

I got tired of the sausage-fest, so I went over to Louisville. I figured that I'd just chill out at The Pub or at Hard Rock for a while, let today sink into me a bit.

No such luck.

Hard Rock was fucking closed.

The Pub was fucking closing as I walked up to the doors.

So I walked down to the Red Star, and they were still open, and the cutie bartender agreed to serve me a beer.

Yay!

So I had a heterosexual* Blue Moon (469) as is my custom in that place.

When I got up to leave the Red Star, I glanced over at one of the tables, and I saw a pretty brunette who kinda look familiar. I didn't think much of it though, until I got outside.

Once I got outside, I turned around, and there she was.

BadPickleGirl!

Yay!

So we went back inside and talked about various crap for a few minutes. It was good to see her.

Then I came home. I'd been thinking about going over to this Third Street Dive place, but by that time I'd had enough excitement.

* - without the ubiquitous fruit wedge

Anyway, today I went shopping at the mall for a while. My tax refund had finally come in, so I had to buy something or risk going more insane. I kept my spending somewhat in-check, so that was good. Some of this money is supposed to go towards my Las Vegas trip in June.

When I left the mall, it was snowing like a mother fucker. In April. Pretty damn weird.

I went to Hooters and had a couple Newcastles (4212) and a quesadilla. All were yummy. The bartender said that she liked my Pink Floyd shirt, and I returned the compliment for her skimpy Hooters top. Then I stopped by Rich O's and had a Mad Bitch (284). It was also quite good.

After a quick nap, I went back to Rich O's at 9:00 or so. It was really packed, and I stood around for a half-hour or so drinking a Fastenbier (77). It was pretty boring, but then three really great things happened.

First, TeamHotness came in. Second, some old people left the kiddie table. Third, some weirdoes left the bar.

So I sat at the kiddie table and TeamHotness sat at the end of the bar and I got to talk to them for a couple of hours.

There may have been other people at Rich O's, and in fact I'm pretty sure that there were other people there, but I didn't care because TeamHotness had my undivided attention.

Oh yeah, I had another Fastenbier at some point (94).

In case I've never explained this before, TeamHotness consists of two girls. I've never seen either of them without the other. One I call ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl and the other I call UnbearablyHotSingleGirl. I think I've used other, less descriptive, nicknames in the past, but I'm not sure. It doesn't matter anyway. They are TeamHotness, and I'm totally smitten with them.

Also, I've been trying to get some people to play 20 Questions with me. To guess what I bought at the mall. RockGirl isn't playing right, and I doubt she'll ever get it. StalkerGirl didn't respond to me until late. But NotHideousGirl played along via text-messaging and guessed correctly in thirteen questions.

Once TeamHotness left, it got boring really quickly. I ordered another Fastenbier, but I only drank a little bit of it (98). Then I talked to this one PBD about various crap. Some of the crap we talked about was LaptopGirl, and I got sad for a while, but I got over it quickly enough I suppose.

Near the end of the night I had an unexpectedly powerful urge to make out with NotHideousGirl. But I didn't. Partly because she wasn't there, but mostly for other reasons beyond my control. Such as, apparently, my hair color. So instead I just came home and petted my cats.

Not the same thing at all.

It was still a good night, though.

Observant readers may have noticed that I haven't mentioned my Easter weekend trip for a while. JS readers may have noticed that I took down my poll.

Well, here's the deal. I'm not going anywhere.

I have several excuses for staying home. A couple of them might even seem halfway reasonable, to some people. But to me, to me they add up to nothing but a thin coat of paint, trying to cover up the ugly fact that I've given up.

So tonight was virtual Friday for me. I'm off work tomorrow. Along with, apparently, every other person on Earth. Because every person on Earth was at Rich O's tonight. Except for about three people who I'd really liked to have seen. But, oh well.

Tonight featured two highlights for me. First, and I'm only mentioning this to justify the title of this entry, I had two yummy glasses of Aecht Schlenkerla Fastenbier (60).

Second, and this is the really cool part, I got to talk to a really cute girl for a few hours. She was there with SassyBoy, and she was nice, and cute, and young. Plus, she thought I was 25-years-old.

For some reason, partly because she asked but mainly because I'm stupid, I told her how old I am. The look on her face was priceless. Probably the same look I'd have gotten if I'd clawed my way out of a grave right in front of her. Except there was slightly less screaming in terror.

And now I'm completely smitten with this girl. This is a good thing, as long as I never see her again. I mean, it's pretty damn cool to be distracted from everyone and everything else for a few hours. That's what she did. She distracted me.

Oh, wait. She didn't quite distract me from thinking about one certain person, but c'mon, only HatGirl can do that.

That's right, a rare Wednesday Beer Report. Mainly because I had a couple of new beers and I've been slacking off on describing new beers lately.

Anyway.

For lunch, I had a yummy Newcastle (2180) at The Pub. NotHideousGirl was a no-show today, but that was okay. I talked to this BikerGirl bartender. She's nice. And smoldering hot. And about twenty years too young for me. I found out what the Japanese characters on her tattoo mean. I'd been hoping for, I secretly lust after Dave, but alas, they mean something totally different.

At least, she says they mean something totally different.

After work I went to Rich O's to see what new beers Gravity Head had in store for me. I saw a couple of beers that looked interesting, and chose my first one via a mental coin flip.

Clipper City Heavy Seas Holy Sheet (10)

(draft) Dark clear copper. Good head. Smelled like a barleywine, and pretty much tasted like one too. That weird flavor of beets or prunes or whatever it is - I don't like it. This beer did grow on me a little as the glass got more empty, but I still can't really say that I liked it.

HotGirlsHotCousin casually mentioned that her cousin was coming in. So I had a little anxiety attack which wasn't allowed to develop into a full-fledged panic attack because, when her "cousin" came in, it wasn't BadPickleGirl at all. Nope, it was some other cousin who I remember meeting briefly a couple of months ago.

My next, and last beer, was another new one for me.

Aecht Schlenkerla Fastenbier (20)

(draft) Cloudy dark brown. Medium head. Delicious smoke aroma. Flavor was pretty good. Much more subdued than other Schlenkerla offerings. Maybe a little bacony, but this was surprisingly good.

So I've been having lunch with NotHideousGirl a lot lately. Three or four times a week, I'll go to The Pub and she'll come and join me. It's almost never planned more than 10 minutes ahead of time. It's always perfectly innocent and platonic.

But people wonder, and then people assume.

WeirdGirl, for example, became convinced that I'd ended things with her because I was seeing NotHideousGirl. I'm pretty sure that I've managed to convince her of the truth.

One bartender, a couple of weeks ago, said to me in an awed whisper, "Dude, you're girlfriend is smoking hot!"

The correct response, of course, would have been, "She's not my girlfriend," or something like that. But that's not what I said. What I said was, "Yes, she certainly is."

See, I like the idea of random strangers thinking that I have a smoking hot girlfriend. That I'm capable of having any girlfriend at all. It's social validation of a sort. Deceptive, certainly, but there have been far worse deceptions over the years.

This deception was harmless. And kinda fun.

But it ran its course fairly quickly. The simple fact that NotHideousGirl and I don't act like girlfriend and boyfriend - there's been very little public slaking between us - that simple fact stopped a lot of the assumptions. Okay, fine, there's been no slaking. Add to that the fact that most people are not blind, and that NotHideousGirl especially is clearly not blind, even more doubters are born.

So most people, by now, are no longer wondering about the two of us. Most people now know the truth. That we are just friends.

Most people, but not all. There are still some people who think we're together together.

So NotHideousGirl and I have briefly discussed ways to convince these stragglers that we're not a couple. Convincing them that we were never a couple, that's probably too much to ask for when it comes to these stubborn people.

But a break-up, a break-up we could do.

And it could be awesome.

So we talked about staging a big break-up fight. Right there at The Pub in the middle of lunch hour, where everybody could see. And everybody could make judgments, and place bets, and gossip among themselves.

"I knew they wouldn't last. She's way out of his league."

"Look at him! He's old enough to be her father!"

"It's about time. I mean, he says he likes nerdy girls, but that's just ridiculous."

But this couldn't be just any old fight. Nope, it had to be one where we each maintained some dignity, and ideally, where we each garnered some favorable attention. And maybe even some pity sex. And, and this is the most important thing - it would have to be the kind of fight which would allow us to remain friends even after the "relationship" was over.

I've been thinking about this proposed break-up fight tonight. Trying to come up with the best scenario. Here are some of my ideas.

I'm an asshole and/or she's a bitch
Way too obvious, and way too predictable. All break-up fights eventually come down to one or both of these accusations. We'd need something more memorable than this, plus it could end up being self-fulfilling if either of us plays our roles too expertly.

She won't let me buy her extravagant gifts
I like this one. It's nice and subtle. It says that I have money, which is always a good thing. And it also says that NotHideousGirl isn't the type of girl who'd be expecting gifts all the time. It shows my generosity. And it also shows that NotHideousGirl cares about more than material things.

I'm too much man for her, if you know what I mean
This, on paper anyway, should be my favorite. The problem, however, with this argument, is that it's a lie just waiting to be revealed. And, if it were to be revealed, it would happen at the worst possible time.

She's insatiable, but there should be more than just raw animal sex between us
I like this one too. I mean, every guy dreams of dating a nympho, right? So that would get NotHideousGirl lots of points. And this argument would also show that I am not a typical man. That I am concerned with more than just sex. That I'm all sensitive and shit.

I don't know if we're ever going to do this, this break-up fight. I think it could be fun, but I also doubt that I could keep a straight face.

So I imagine that we'll just have to keep whittling away at those doubting romanticists. Keep telling them the boring truth, and hope that it eventually sinks in.

You know how some blogs have those My Mood thingies at the top of every entry? Right below the Currently Listening To thingy?

I've never had either one of those in my blog. The former because it's stupid and usually redundant, and the latter because I don't listen to music often enough to want it to define me.

Anyway, I was thinking about my mood just now. Trying to come up with a word to describe it. I'm sure that the proper word exists, but I'll be damned if I can think of it.

The word disillusioned is pretty close, I guess. So is disgusted. And annoyed.

But none of those words are quite exactly right.

As recently as Thursday, the word unmotivated would have been quite appropriate. But now, now it's more than that. The lack of motivation that I noticed then, it has mutated, evolved into something else. Something more.

So, here's the deal.

I give up.

Those things that I want out of this life? They're beyond me. They always have been and they always will be beyond me. Wanting and hoping and dreaming and even trying are all wastes of my time. Mine and that of the people unfortunate enough to be around me.

So, fuck it. Let everyone else play the happiness game. I'll no longer watch from the sidelines, and I'll no longer dream of the day when I finally get to play. I'm sick of sitting on the bench, and so I'm not going to do it anymore.

The universe can find someone else to warm its fucking bench. I'm done.

I hope this mood lasts. It suits me.