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.

Some people may wonder why I continue to write crap like that. Why I don't just shut the fuck up already. I suppose, to some people, I might seem to have a pretty decent life. I make pretty good money doing something I mostly enjoy. I shoot a good game of pool, and I get a lot of pleasure from playing. I'm at times surrounded by beautiful women who actually like me, as long as I don't get any ideas. I can strike up a conversation with just about anyone and end up with a new friend.

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.