I actually feel a little bit guilty, like I've stolen this mood. Plundered some dusty tomb, to get at the treasures hidden inside my own memories. Alternatively, sometimes it feels like I've imagined the whole thing; like I'm lying to myself and to everyone around me.

But, truth be told, this is not a nostalgic mood, clinging to me from the past. And this is not a hopeful mood, beckoning from the future. This is a happy mood, and it's happening right now. The present that has been so bleak for so long has suddenly grown lush and colorful.

It's very hard to convince myself that this is real. That this is my mood, to do with what I wish. That this is my smile, and my laugh. It just doesn't seem right, that I could be happy. It doesn't quite fit.

There are those who would say that I don't deserve to be happy. Maybe they're right. Maybe that's why I feel guilty.

This distance between nothing and something is unimaginably vast, yet you crossed it with a single step. Alone and unarmed, you braved that journey which I'd judged impossible for so long. Do not be afraid. Here, take my hand. I want to show you something. It's wonderful here.

Had a pretty boring day, which was fine. Watched some movies, shot some pool, played with my cats.

Tonight I got a call from SassyGirl, so that was very cool. I've made plans to go see her in early July. I really hope things work out so that I can make it. I didn't like the way she disappeared a few weeks ago, and I liked even less how I just let it happen without protest.

Tomorrow it's back to work for me. I'm not looking forward to it at all, but maybe I'll have lunch with NotHideousGirl and I'll get to find out why she blew me off Sunday night.

I also want to talk to MixedSignalGirl about something. I'd just call her, but I kinda promised that I wouldn't. So I'm hoping that she'll read this and call me. Hint hint.

I have this little scene that runs through my head quite often. In this scene, I'm sitting in some dark and smoke-filled bar, oblivious to everyone and everything around me, and I'm writing. It's a nice little scene, I think. I'm like some modern-day Hemingway or something.

This little scene hardly ever plays out in real life. For one thing, I'm certainly no Hemingway. I mean, he was a crazy old drunk fucker, right?

Oh. Never mind.

But the real reason this scene hardly ever plays out is that the part about me being oblivious hardly ever plays out. I like pretty girls too much for that. I like to watch stupid people too much. I have to be in a very rare mood to just ignore my surroundings and bury myself in my notebook.

And, speaking of pretty girls, there's one over there now. So I'm going to stop writing and look at her for a while. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk to her. That would be nice, I think.

The last, and only, time I did one of these was almost a year and a half ago. I figure it's time for an updated list.

My apologies to anyone I left out. I assure you that it wasn't intentional. I will continue to make updates here as memories resurface and new things happen.

I've also decided clarifications of the women I write about are indeed frequently asked questions, so I'll be updating my FAQ page with a link to this entry. The things I do for you people.

AlliGirl: One of my favorite people slash girls slash bartenders anywhere. Makes me wish I was a couple of decades younger.

ArtGirl: She's an artist, and she works in a museum. I have a crush on her.

BadPickleGirl: A friend of my sister Dina. We "half-ass dated" for a short while. She's a very nice person, and one of my favorite people to talk to.

BamaGirl: A girl from Rich O's. I only see her and her husband every now and then these days.

BigWheelGirl: One of LaptopGirl's friends. She drove us to see Screech. The nickname is because of a story that LaptopGirl told me about when they were kids. I'm pretty sure that BigWheelGirl hates me with a burning passion.

BikerGirl: See AlliGirl. A hot bartender at The Pub. She has a motorcycle, hence the nickname, which I don't use anymore.

Bubbles: A Rich O's regular. She just has a bubbly personality.

CanadianGirl: She used to work at my company, and she'd show up at Rich O's every now and then. She moved to Omaha. The nickname is because she's from Canada originally. She's a very friendly drunk.

CannonGirl: Another name for TrainGirl. She used to work at this historical place with cannons. I don't know where she's at these days.

CartGirl: A nice girl at work, who usually brightens my day. She pushes a cart around for a living.

CrewCutGirl: A girl from Rich O's. She has the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I wrote an entry about her once.

CuteAsFuckGirl: She grew up in Washington County. She wants me. The nickname is self-explanatory. I haven't seen her since the day I met her.

CuteBartender: A cute bartender at Rich O's. I have a crush on her.

CuteBlonde: One of the regulars at Rich O's. She's married to some guy who's name I can never remember. Another nickname that needs no explanation. I don't think I've seen CuteBlonde in over a year.

Dina: My sister.

DoableGirl: A cute girl who I've seen at Denny's a couple of times.

DooRagGirl: See NotHideousGirl.

EllaGirl: See WeirdGirl. This nickname, which didn't stick, was because she looks like a girl name Ella from JournalSpace.

EnglishGirl: I spent several hours talking with her in Boston. Extremely nice. I should have given her my email address. She's from England. I haven't heard from her since, probably because I didn't give her my email address.

EwokGirl: Our cubicles used to be next to each other. Sometimes she would bring me free germs. She told me to use EwokGirl as a nickname. She's cute as a bug.

ExoticGirl: A smoldering hot girl that used to come into Rich O's sometimes. She's married. She's got sort of a Middle Eastern look to her, hence ExoticGirl.

EyesGirl: A really cute girl I talked to in Covington, Ky one night. She had two eyes.

FilleFransaiseSexy: One time, CanadianGirl brought some French people into Rich O's. I asked one of the French dudes how to say "hot French girl" in French, and this nickname is the result.

FirstGirl: A PBD at Rich O's, married to another PBD.The nickname is not, as one might suspect, because she was my first girl, but rather because she was the first person to ever talk to me at Rich O's after I started hanging out there.

FoxyGirl: A girl I went to school with. I'm pretty sure she was my first love, as least as far as I knew at the time about love.

GlassesGirl: A friend of Neisha's from childhood, and a former regular at Rich O's. I don't talk to her as much as I used to. Probably because she doesn't come to Rich O's anymore.

GropingGirl: A girl I met in Covington. She seems very nice. Maybe a bit too nice with people she never saw before in her life.

HatGirl: I adore HatGirl, and I wish I could see her more often. Besides being beautiful and smart and funny, she's the only girl who's ever successfully distracted me from missing LaptopGirl. Her fiance is LuckyFucker.

HomelessGirl: See OddlyFamiliarGirl.

HopGirl: Married to ScarecrowDude. Very nice. She likes hoppy beers.

HotBartender: She worked at The Great Lost Bear in Portland Maine when I was there. The nickname is self-explanatory.

HotEuchreGirl: She's hot, and she plays euchre. I don't think she likes me very much. Or maybe she likes me too much.

HotGirl: See BadPickleGirl.

HotGirlsHotCousin: It was just pointed out to me that I hadn't listed her here. She is BadPickleGirl's cousin, and since BadPIckleGirl used to be called HotGirl, well the nickname is pretty obvious. I see HotGirlsHotCousin about once a month or so at Rich O's.

HotRedHead: GlassesGirl's friend. I'm pretty sure that I ruined her life or something by writing about her. Oops. Haven't seen her in a long time.

HotRedHeadGirl: See HotRedHead.

ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl: One-half of TeamHotness, along with UnbearablyHotSingleGirl.

JauntyGirl: SassyGirl's (ex?)-girlfriend. Has a very pretty smile, and I like her a lot. The nickname is because of a jaunty cap she was wearing one day.

KidneyGirl: Just this weird girl that may or may not have tried to pick me up at The Pub once. The nickname is because of the old urban legend about waking up in a tub of ice with your kidney missing.

KittenDamsel: She's listed elsewhere here, but I'm trying to keep her two personalities separate. She's extremely sweet, one of those girls with whom timing screwed everything up. Currently we're thinking about trying again.

LaptopGirl: She moved away and I became sad. I might have mentioned being sad once or twice here in this journal. For a while, after she moved back, I became hopeful that our friendship could be resurrected, and maybe even more than friendship. I was wrong, but I did finally get to try.

LibertyGirl: A semi-regular at Rich O's. She has a 'blog, but she never updates it. The nickname is a bit of a play on her real name.

LibraryGirl: A friend of SassyGirl. She works at the library.

MaineGirl: A really cool chick that I spent several hours talking to in Portland a few years ago.

MaybeCrazyGirl: A girl from Rich O's who may be crazy, as she was hitting on me, of all people.

MisunderstoodGirl: One of the best. I call her this because many people don't make the effort to get to know her, and so they never understand her at all. She's a very cool chick, and quite a good artist. She moved away, and that makes me sad.

MixedSignalGirl: My ex-girlfriend. The nickname is because of a malfunctioning traffic light we encountered on our first date. She could never quite get over the whole LaptopGirl thing. She is, by far, the most amazing person I've ever known, and I miss her every single day, but I also accept that she's better off without me.

NakedGirl: This sweet girl from JS who keeps me company via email sometimes.

NeighborsDaughter: A very cute, very married girl who works at the local GasNStuff and is the adult daughter of my neighbor. She comes into Rich O's every now and then.

Neisha: My youngest sister.

NiceGirl: PlantDude's fiance. Sort of a semi-regular at Rich O's. She's nice, and we make an awesome euchre pair.

NormalGirl: A smoldering hot girl who also seems incredibly nice and down to earth. I keep waiting for her schedule to become less hectic. There could be actual potential there, I think.

NotHideousGirl: A childhood friend of my sister, Neisha. She picked the nickname, in a roundabout way. We used to have lunch together quite often, but not anymore. I think we've broken up, and that's a shame.

OddlyFamiliarGirl: This is NotHideousGirl's sister. That's why she looked familiar.

OddlyPrettyGirl: One of the owners of the Rich O's/SportsTime empire. Not Roger. I don't know why I chose that nickname for her.

PearlGirl: A girl at Rich O's. I think she's becoming a regular or something. She has the same Blackberry model as me.

PeeGirl: This very cute young girl who watched me pee then used me to sneak around the doorman at a bar one night.

PictureGirl: I had a fling/thing with her in Las Vegas. Just cute as hell. The nickname is sort of from how we met. Last time I checked, she was very happily involved with some lucky guy.

PigtailGirl: I had a one night stand with her in Las Vegas. She's from Portland Maine. She had pigtails.

PokerGirl: A hot friend of HatGirl's who plays poker for a living in Las Vegas.

PoolGirl: A cute, married girl that's become a bit of a regular. She's a pool player, apparently.

PortGirl: Some chick that kept talking to me about port wine one night at Rich O's.

ProbableLesbian: This girl used to come in to Rich O's all the time, but I haven't seen her in years. A self-explanatory nickname.

RahRahGirl: A cute friend of NormalGirl. The nickname is because she's a cheerleader.

RealTrainGirl: See SassyGirl.

RedHairGirl: See HotRedHead.

RedRoomGirl: Just this chick that was hot that sat in the red room one night.

RingGirl: A girl I met at Bearno's. We went to Denny's. She has a weird ring.

RioGirl: We went swimming together, and she told me that she liked my hair when it was mussed up. She worked at The Rio in Las Vegas.

RockGirl: My kindred spirit. I've never met her in real life though - I just know her from the Internet. The nickname is because she sent me a rock. Someday I hope to get up the courage to meet her in person. I owe her my life, in every sense except the literal one.

SassyGirl: My lesbian girlfriend. One of my best friends from Rich O's. Her nickname is because of a new, shorter hairstyle that she got.. SassyGirl moved away, and even though she's been back to visit several times, things haven't been the same. I miss her friendship, a lot.

SmolderingHotGirl: A possibly underaged girl that SpikeBoy and I drooled over one night at SportsTime.

SneakyGirl: An on again/off again girlfriend. Mostly off. She's sneaky, and funny. I chose SneakyGirl because she admits it about herself.

SpoonsGirl: My sister Dina's friend. The nickname is from a very dark day in her life.

StalkerGirl: One my readers who flattered the shit out of me by going back and reading three years' worth of drivel. I'm pretty sure that she's hot, but I'm positive that she's married.

StoreGirl: A semi-regular at Rich O's. The nickname is because I ran into her at my local grocery store once.

StupidGirl: A very mean nickname for a girl who turned out to be very nice and sweet. We're officially "involved" now, though we still live a million miles apart, and that makes me sad.

SunburnGirl: See MisunderstoodGirl. One night I changed everybody's nicknames, just to mix things up a little.

SuperHotYoungGirl: The nickname is self-explanatory. She doesn't come around anymore.

SweetAssGirl: I met her in St. Louis. She had a sweet ass.

TacoBell: See JauntyGirl. I called her this when I first met her, because she worked at Taco Bell.

TallBlondeGirl: This cute girl I talked to for several hours at Mac's one night. She actually distracted me from NotHideousGirl's singing, which is something I'd thought would be impossible.

TallLady: One of the regulars at Rich O's. She died in July 2011, kinda suddenly. She was very nice except when she was trying to get me to smile, then she wass too pushy. The nickname is because, duh, she was tall. Like over six feet I think.

ThatOneHotGirl: A girl I became smitten with at Rich O's one night. I kinda want to have children with her, if I ever see her again.

TracingGirl: See VigilanteGirl. One night I changed everybody's nicknames, just to mix things up a little.

TrainGirl: She used to be SassyGirl's girlfriend. She was really nice to talk to, but she moved away so I don't get to see her any more. When I first met her, I got her and SassyGirl mixed up, so I thought she worked for the railroad. Once I found out that I'd mixed them up it was too late to swap nicknames.

TremensGirl: A semi-regular at Rich O's. She's a cute redhead who drinks Delirium Tremens. She thinks I'm brave for some reason.

UnbearablyHotSingleGirl: The other half of TeamHotness, along with ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl.

VigilanteGirl: We used to flirt with each other a lot, when she worked at GasNStuff. The nickname is from a story she told me, when we first met, about chasing down some gas thieves. I didn't see her for a year and a half until one day I ran into her at White Castle. Now I'm hoping that it's not another year and a half.

WeatherGirl: A smoldering hot friend of LaptopGirl.

WeirdGirl: My last girlfriend, as of this writing. I still see her every now and then, but we both realize that there's no future for the two of us. A pregnancy scare help to make that perfectly clear.

WorldsHottestGirl: She used to come into Rich O's a lot, but she stopped. The nickname is self-explanatory.

YoungGirl: A really nice girl from Jack's who I've hung out with a few times as a sort of rebound.

ZodiacGirl: See LaptopGirl. Sigh. One night I changed everybody's nicknames, just to mix things up a little.

It was pretty dead at Rich O's last night. I had a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (51) and a couple Guinnii (1464). I had of course been hoping to see LaptopGirl, but that didn't happen. In fact, I don't think anything interesting happened except that WeirdGirl kept calling me trying to pick a fight or something.

So at 10:30 or so I went over to Louisville to fight with her in person. While I waited for her to get off work I had a Newcastle (5312) at The Pub, then a part of a BBC Alt (368) at Hard Rock. I got to talk with CoolHairGirl quite a bit, mostly about the show Heroes. She's nice.

WeirdGirl had to work a lot later than she'd thought she would, but finally at 12:30 she was allowed to leave. She seemed to have lost the urge to start shit about things that I cannot control, so we went up and checked out this new bar that I can't remember the name of. It was fucking loud, but there were a lot of hot girls in various states of dress and undress.

I like hot girls. I especially like it when I'm with one of the hottest. Social proof, I like to call it.

Anyway, WeirdGirl had way too much to drink. I had slightly too much to drink. So we took a cab back to her place and crashed.

Then this morning I went to get my truck, I saw that somebody had vomited all over the side of it. Not cool.

I just don't understand this craze. I mean, I understand the goal of the things, but I don't get how they're supposed to be fun.

The bartender at lunch today was doing one. I've seen BikerGirl do them. In fact, I've seen bartenders doing them all over the place. There have got to be better ways to kill time.

In elementary school math class, they'd give us these things, and we'd call them pop-quizzes, and we'd hate them. But now, they're called puzzles and they're supposed to be so much fun?

I just don't get it.

As I write this, I'm sitting at Buffalo Wild Wings on Bardstown Road in Louisville, having a yummy Newcastle (5270) and waiting for my yummy naked tenders with spicy garlic sauce to arrive.

I brought my notebook with me. I was going to try to write a long-overdue update for my anonymous journal, but this cutie bartender keeps distracting me with her various feminine attributes. And talking to me. A lot.

Damn these good looks of mine!

To be fair, however, it's probably more than that. Or maybe even something completely different than that.

See, what's happening, I think, is that people, such as this little cutie-patootie bartender with the perky and shapely breasts, people see me smiling. Smiling like I'm smiling today. Smiling like there's no tomorrow. And they assume, because of the smiling, that I'm a friendly and maybe even *gasp* a sociable person.

They don't know the story of why I'm smiling. They don't know how rare it is. How could they possibly know?

So they see me smiling, and maybe they hear me laugh out loud for no discernable reason. And I seem like a nice enough person. And they talk with me and sometimes they flirt with me.

And I don't have the heart to tell them that this smile, and this laugh, they're not for them. And that I kinda wish they'd leave me alone for a while.

I thought I'd lost my rock, and it took me over a half an hour to find it. Then, on the way to Wendy's to get something to eat, I started having a panic attack. By the time I got to Wendy's I could barely stand up. Even my legs were shaking.

It might have been residual panic from thinking I'd lost my rock. It might have been because the last time I'd gone to Wendy's had been on Awkward Night. Or it might have been for some completely random reason. All I know is that it was bad.

After I ate, I felt a little better, and I went to Rich O's. I had to park on Mars, and so I was pleasantly surprised to see that the entire living room area was empty. Of course I grabbed the throne. I ordered a Stone Smoked Porter (400). StoreGirl came in right after I did and she sat on the loveseat.

There was a dude there from Velocity, one of the local free papers. He was taking pictures of the place for some bar-hopper segment they do. Then he came and sat on the sofa and talked to StoreGirl and me for a while. He got our names and conducted a little interview with me because I'm famous and shit. He seemed particularly interested in the customer appreciation festivals like DaveFest and SteveFest. It was pretty cool. This was actually the second time I'd been interviewed at Rich O's. The other time was a couple of years ago.

After the newspaper dude left, people started showing up. The living room area got pretty crowded, and my panic attack resumed with added intensity. I was actually starting to wonder if there might me something physically wrong with me.

Then LaptopGirl came in and smiled, and I was fine after that.

For the next couple of hours, I sat on the loveseat and talked with LaptopGirl. It was surreal and fantastic. I had another Stone (420). Once LaptopGirl left, I moved back to the throne and talked with MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl and CoffeeDude for a bit. I ordered another Stone, but I only drank half of it (430). I had a Diet Coke and then I came home.

I couldn't sleep at all so I sat on my swing and thought about happy things.

It might seem, to those of you who read this entry, that I went out to the bar last night. It would be a perfectly understandable mistake.

I got there at 8:00 or so. It was pretty crowded, mostly with regulars. I ordered a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (34) and sat on the sofa.

For about ten seconds.

The music was too fucking loud there. Way too loud. I'm talking concert-level sound. So I picked up my shit and moved up to the island.

For about ten minutes.

The assholes behind me were practically screaming at each other, just to be heard over the music. Plus I think they were drunk. Their shouting was threatening to vibrate my skull apart, and that would have been gross, so I picked up my shit and moved to the bar.

My second beer was a Stone Smoked Porter (380), which isn't my favorite smoked beer but it's pretty good when it's on tap. I sat there and talked with TallLady and various people about various things.

At one point one of the bartenders poured me a sample of a new beer for me. This is actually a beer I bought for myself the other day, but it still sits unopened in my beer fridge.

Malheur 10 (4)

(bottle) Hazy gold with lots of fizz. Good-sized head. Aroma fairly standard for Belgian ales. Flavor quite yummy. The usual for this style, but with some tiny hints of spices and maybe even some caramel in there.

Once it was gone, I finished my porter and talked with WomanRepellant and various other people about various crap. Towards the end of the night I had a Diet Coke and talked with TremensGirl about various crap, like how she's under the delusion that I'm brave.

Like I said, it might seem like I went to the bar last night. But it only seems that way.

What I really did, what I really did was take a deep breath, and then hold it for four hours. Then, when I got into my truck to drive home, I exhaled.

And tonight I'll probably do it all again.

Last night I was accused of being brave. Specifically, I was accused of being brave when I write my drivel.

I didn't think it was a particularly fair or accurate accusation but because I am, at my core and fuck anyone who says otherwise, a nice guy, I didn't argue with it very much. And I didn't laugh hysterically until my accuser had left.

See, to me bravery is doing something in spite of fear.

And that's definitely not what I'm doing here, when I write my drivel. Not at all.

What I'm doing here, is I'm writing because of desperation. I'm writing because of stupidity and selfishness. I'm writing for an awful lot of reasons, but bravery isn't one of those reasons. It's not even close.

Mostly, I think, I'm writing not in spite of my fears, but because of them. Because I'm afraid of every other outlet for these words and these feelings. I write of these things because I'm afraid to speak them aloud, and because I'm also afraid of exploding if I don't give them some outlet.

So please, don't think of me as brave. I don't deserve it. These things that I write, they are a coward's words.

That seemed a lot better in my head than it ended up on the screen. So I've deleted it. But I'll rewrite it, and I'll try to do a better job.

I think that, to a lot of my friends, I'm quite handy. I'm a flashlight in the bottom of a cluttered kitchen drawer. Used briefly, and then put away and forgotten. Until the next time I'm needed. It's a lonely existence most of the time, but it's still nice to be useful.

---

I went and bought some bottles of Spezial Rauchbier today. I had two of them tonight (1504). It's pretty damn good. I want more.

---

Tomorrow is virtual Friday for me. Then it's a four-day weekend. What will I do during this four-day weekend? I'll wait and hope, of course. What else would I do?

---

Just about every day, when it's warm, I walk to The Pub for lunch. Google says it's seven-tenths of a mile. It seems longer than that.

---

In two and a half weeks I'll be in Las Vegas again. I should really start trying to get excited about the trip. I could certainly use the distraction.

---

HarpO wrote an entry yesterday which contained this sentence:

"Sometimes people do every thing to lead you on then if you make the effort to respond they pretend you acted without stimulus."

I'm think that this just might be the truest statement ever written. Also, HarpO and I are apparently living parallel lives.

---

I opened my present from yesterday, and it was exactly what I thought it was. It made me smile for about an hour.

---

Today I spent a lot of money on something that I'll probably never use.

---

I'm very confused about tonight's Lost finale. If the thing with Jack was supposed to be in the future, then why was his dad still alive?

---

There are two people, ostensibly among my best friends for my entire life, and I haven't seen one of them in seven months, and I haven't seen the other one in almost a year. This is not completely my fault.

---

I'm in a weird mood.

There are things that I cannot allow myself to write about in any detail at all, no matter how much I want to. Why I was so happy a couple of weeks ago. Why I fell back into despair a few days ago.

They are two sides of the same coin. It's as simple as that. And as cryptic as that.

I am dancing in the light, or I am cowering in the dark. I am laughing hysterically and grinning from ear to ear, or tears are streaming down my face. I live a binary life.

I am not ashamed. Not anymore. I used to be, back when this all started, but not anymore. I might as well be ashamed of my height, or of the color of my hair. I had no choice about those things either.

Shame is not why I stay silent, and shame is not why I cloak my writings in drivel like the above. Neither am I particularly afraid.

I'm just trying to prove, to myself mostly, that I've learned from the mistakes of my past.

Sometimes I think it might be nice to be a normal person. But not always, or even very often. Because I know that, if I were a normal person, then two Saturdays ago would have just been another Saturday, and this past Saturday would have been just another Saturday.

I would not trade two Saturdays ago for anything. Even if it means that I have to have nights like this past Saturday. You gotta have the bad to appreciate the good, or something like that. Well, it works out pretty well, when the good is glorious, and the bad has become something I'm used to. The theme of my life, I suppose.

I forget where I was going with this.

...but only because it might do something do drag me out of this funk. Even if it's only for a couple of hours, it would still be pretty nice to feel good again, or at least not feel miserable for a while.

It's the thought that counts, right?

Well, maybe for some people, but usually not for me. I'm not a mind-reader, after all. Sometimes the thought isn't enough. Sometimes it's the action caused by those thoughts that really counts, and that really makes a difference.

Somebody gave me a present today.

I don't know what it is, and I haven't opened it. I haven't opened it because (a) I think I know what it is, and (b) if I'm wrong then that'll just be another thing to disappoint me.

So, for now, it stays wrapped. For now, it has the potential to make me smile. And it will stay that way until I can't stand the suspense anymore, until I rip it open and see for sure what it is.

Today I got to see NotHideousGirl briefly at lunch, and I got to meet her father, NotHideousDad.

I'm pretty sure that nothing relevant happened Friday night.

Ditto for Saturday night except that this one girl told me that I was hot before she got too drunk to be believable. So that was cool.

Then today my graphics card died on me, and I had to go to Best Buy to get a new one. There was a hot rod show across the street from Best Buy, and I was going to stop and look at the cool cars, but then I remembered that (a) I'm unfit for human company and (b) I couldn't guarantee that nobody would try to talk to me. So I just came home instead.

I was going to just stop writing in this blog until this current mood levels off, but the fact is that I need this outlet.

Don't expect much though.

I know I'm not.

What a fucking waste of a life few months weekend that was.

That is all.

I was going to write some long rambling crap just now, but I changed my mind.

My happiness inertia is running out. I need another push.

You ever just happen look at somebody from a certain angle, in just the right light, and just have something click inside you? Like, you knew that person was attractive, but all of a sudden, click! And you find yourself suddenly and powerfully attracted to that person?

Yeah well, me too. It's not a sin, it's just human nature.

---

I've been in a fantastic mood for five straight days. This is definitely a record, and I'm very impressed by it. But I still hope to break that record tomorrow, with a sixth day.

---

I touched her today. It was all very innocent, but my body couldn't help but remember the last time I'd touched her. I wonder, did her body remember it also?

---

I kinda wanted to go to this folk festival thingy in Madison on Saturday. But I'm on-call, so I really shouldn't go. There's not much cell phone coverage in Madison. Or at least there wasn't last year.

---

I thought I'd have more, but I was wrong.

So this HarpO guy tagged me to participate in this eight things about me meme that's making the rounds at JournalSpace. And I'm stumped. I've been trying to come up with eight things that (a) I've never mentioned before, and (b) are at least halfway interesting.

And, like I said, I'm stumped. So I'll skip the interesting requirement, and I'll just list eight new things about my lovely self.

1. I've had a lot of different cars in my life, but when I dream about a car, it's always the same one. My 1979 Pontiac Firebird. It was the second car I ever owned.

2. When my ex-wife and I bought a mobile home, and had it moved onto the base where I was stationed, I set the entire thing up by myself. I leveled it and hooked up all of the utilities by myself, in the rain. All I had to help with the leveling was a 4-ton hydraulic jack.

3. When I was in eighth grade, this one seventh grader had a crush on me. I thought she was very cute and nice, but she was an outcast. I succumbed to peer pressure and I broke her heart. She got the last laugh on me by becoming smoldering hot in time for the next school year and then never speaking to me again.

4. I'm pretty sure that the first girl I ever had sex with is a lesbian now.

5. I haven't heard from HatGirl in about a million years. I'm well beyond my normal freak-out point, but I'm still doing okay. I don't like it that I'm still okay.

6. NotHideousGirl told me today that I'm really good at putting out the friend vibes to women. I can't decide if that was supposed to be a compliment or not.

7. A while ago I almost threw $6,000 into the Ohio River, on purpose.

8. Last night I was watching Lost and I got the idea to write an entry about the five best and the five worst moments of my life. But then I realized that I could come up with a million worst moments, but only a couple best moments, so I gave up on that idea.

I think I'm supposed to tag eight people to do this, but I never tag anyone for this kind of stuff, and I see no reason to start now.

I have never in my life been able to climax from a blow-job. Not even close.

There.

Now that I've got my sisters to stop reading this entry, I'll continue.

I was in a fight with one of my sisters recently. Not a real fight, but an email argument of sorts. I don't want to get into the details because it's nobody's business, but I think I can safely summarize by saying that she thought I was the worst person on Earth, and I disagreed.

I bet though, if I was the worst person on Earth, there'd be ways to make some pretty good money out of it. Even if it was just charging people to not hang out with them. Or maybe I could do school assemblies and give a moving don't grow up like me speech. Or a political party could pay me big bucks to endorse someone from a rival party. Like I'm pretty sure that Jesse Jackson must be on the Republican party's payroll.

The possibilities for wealth are almost endless.

And it must be easier than being the best person on Earth, because nobody has ever accused me of that.

Malheur Dark Brut
Malheur Brut Reserve
Gouden Carolus Grand Cru
Gouden Carolus Classic
Malheur 10
Abbaye d'Aulne Triple Brune
Gouden Carolus Triple
Konigshoeven Quad

Except for the Koningshoeven, these are all new beers for me.

Rogue Ten Thousand Brew Ale
Allagash Curieux
Rodenbach
Rodenbach Grand Cru
Ommegang Three Philosophers
Avert The Reverend
Three Floyds Behemoth
Canaster Winterscotch
Cassissona
Delirium Tremens

All new to me except The Reverend and Delirium Tremens.

And I actually have even more waiting to be enjoyed. I just didn't want to post a picture of everything because I didn't want people to think I was a freak.

I've been having these stupid little fantasies. They're really nothing special, unless you contrast them with reality. And of course I do that, a lot.

So I fantasize about stuff. All the time. I'm doing it right now as I type this sentence.

I think that the thing that really hits me in the proverbial face with the proverbial baseball bat, when I allow my mind to wander like this, is that those things that I fantasize about - I've already experienced them. I've already lived the dream.

And what did I do, back when I had everything?

I wanted more, or I wanted less, or I wanted something else entirely.

I'd completely lost sight of what was really important. I'd completely forgotten what it was like to be a happy person. So much that I didn't recognize happiness even when I was smack in the middle of it. I guess that a part of me thought it was a trick, some cruel joke, some evil scheme designed to lure me out into the open where I'd be vulnerable.

And so now, years later, I fantasize about regaining those things which I have lost. And I wonder if I'll be able to do better the next time, if there indeed is a next time. Can I be less afraid, should an opportunity for bravery miraculously present itself?

There are things that I know, deep down, things that I know should be handled differently. Things that should be said. Truths that should be told. Gestures that should be made. Oaths that should be sworn. I know these things as surely as I know my own name.

I know that I must do things differently, should the opportunity arise.

I know this.

So I wonder, why am I still so afraid? And what is it, exactly, that I fear?

Even though I make statements to the contrary all the time, I'm really not stupid, you know.

What I am, and there's a big difference, what I am is ignorant.

About a lot of things, and especially about a lot of people.

But, because I'm not stupid, I'm perfectly capable of learning from past mistakes and misjudgments. If I feel like it, and if it's not too late.

Those are pretty tough things to do sometimes. To recognize a wasted effort for what it was. To accept that some deeds cannot be excused, some words cannot be explained away. To come upon an insurmountable obstacle and then to simply turn and walk in another direction. Not because it's the preferable thing to do, but simply because it's either that or stop dead and wait and hope for the impossible.

I forget where I was going with this.

Oh, yeah.

A few months ago, I learned that I was wasting my time. Much more recently, I put that knowledge to use. I was quite happy with my decision, when I made it.

I mean, why squander even more time and effort than I'd already wasted?

Oh, yeah.

Because sometimes, situations change. And sometimes, people change. And sometimes, obstacles crumble.

I'm still sticking with my decision though. I do, after all, have facts to back it up.

Unless those facts are no longer true.

If that turns out to be the case, then I'll have made yet another mistake. But it will have been out of ignorance, not out of stupidity.

Meanwhile, I'm still in the best mood I can ever remember experiencing. It's faded a little bit since Saturday, as should be expected, but it's definitely still there. I think I could grow to like this, smiling all the time. As long as my face doesn't crack and fall off. Because that would be gross.

At first I thought that maybe NotNideousGirl's sleepiness was rubbing off on me. She was pretty tired at lunch, and then after lunch I started feeling exhausted. But her sleepiness couldn't have rubbed off on me because there was no rubbing.

Then I thought that maybe my sleep deprivation from the weekend was just hitting me harder than it usually does. I mean, I was so tired by 5:00 that I declined a dinner invitation from BadPickleGirl. After work I went to Rich O's to pick up the painting I'd bought the other day, then I came home and went to sleep for ten hours.

And now I think that maybe I slept too much, because I feel like shit. I hope it's just from too much sleep, and not because I'm coming down with some new Springtime variant of the Kentuckiana Death Flu.

I have a problem with toes. Whenever I see bare toes, I become very concerned that I'm going to accidentally step on them and crush them. I don't know if this fear is because of some tragic and long-repressed event from my childhood or what. I just know that I have a real fear of stepping on bare toes. Shoes, and even socks - they don't bother me at all. This is especially an issue at Rich O's because (a) a lot of the people there are hippies who wear sandals even in the Winter, and (b) There isn't much space between the coffee table and the sofa and loveseat.

Speaking of Coffee, if CoffeeDude decides that it's once again time to lecture LaptopGirl on the realities and hardships of life and make her cry, well I might have to think of something to make CoffeeDude cry. Like maybe I'll buy a big expensive bag of coffee and then flush it down the toilet or something.

An excited girl is not a problem that must be solved. It's not a plague upon the land which must be eradicated. It's not a boil that must be lanced. It's not a fire that must be drowned. It's a good thing, even a great thing when it makes the girl's eyes light up like LaptopGirl's were lit up last night.

Speaking of drowning, I don't know how much water plants are supposed to get. My sister is on vacation and yesterday and today were my days to feed the cats and water the plants. I was really hoping for rain so I could skip the latter task, but nooooooooo! It's been beautiful all weekend. Damn my luck.

So I probably gave the plants too much water, and they'll die soon. Or I might not have given them enough, and they'll die soon. Either way, I'm sure they're going to die soon. But at least the cats are okay. I can deal with cats. I know cats. Plants, not so much. Or not at all.

Speaking of plants, today while I was driving home from Dina's, my pretty girl radar went off. I looked to my right, and there was BadPickleGirl, browsing around this plant stand in front of a convenience store. So that was cool. I stopped and talked to her for a bit. She's nice.

Speaking of nice, BigWheelGirl was actually nice to me last night. This was noticeable because she usually tries to disintegrate me with the laser beams she shoots out of her eyes. Shit, last night, I actually made her laugh and grin. One of each, I think.

Speaking of laughing and grinning, that's what I did all night long on my swing. I laughed out loud at the universe which had tried so hard to destroy me. I grinned so big and so much that I half-expected an attorney from Lewis Carroll's estate to show up with an injunction.

You can get cramps in your facial muscles. I didn't know that before. It hurts.

Speaking of learning something new, I also learned that it's a lot more fun for me stay awake for 38 hours because I'm happy than to accomplish the same feat because I'm sad. It's still not that much fun though.

My face hurts so much right now.

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

I am so fucking happy right now.

Sufficient words do not exist.

I was asked a couple of stupid questions today. Actually it was one stupid question, and then a follow-up question which seemed just as stupid.

And then, then I couldn't answer either question for the longest time. And I thought that maybe they weren't so stupid after all. And I became afraid.

And for hours now, I've felt this internal struggle, as different factions of my innermost thoughts and feelings fought to answer those two stupid questions.

Well, finally, I can answer the first question, and finally, I can answer the follow-up question.

Yes, and no.

Clear as mud, right?

First...

Absolutely. How could I not? Fuck, it's practically happening anyway.

And then...

No. Not even close. There would still be something missing.

I know exactly what I want.

That which is missing from everyone else. I don't know what it is, exactly, but I know it when I see it. When I feel it. When I hear it and smell it and touch it and taste it.

It's what I want.

And, more than that, it's what I want to want.

---

A friend of mine pointed out to me tonight that a certain person was drop-dead gorgeous.

She doesn't know me very well at all, to still believe that I give a flying fuck what a certain person looks like.

But I digress.

---

I like this feeling of desire and longing. I don't want it to end.

I want to want what I want. I don't necessarily want what I want, but I desperately want to want it.

Decipher that last sentence, and I think you'll understand me pretty well.

NotHideousGirl and I spent an inordinate time, at lunch today, discussing funerals and funeral parlors.

This is probably my fault. I broached the subject by mentioning that I was going to visitation for a former coworker of mine.

I may have started the discussion, but NotHideousGirl is the one who took it and ran with it. So for about an hour we talked about these happy subjects. I tried a couple of times to talk about something else, such as how weird and/or cute her hair was today, but she'd have none of that.

At one point we played the fun little game of counting how many times we'd been to funeral homes. Maybe you can use this the next time you host a kids' birthday party. Here's my list:

My paternal great-grandfather
My maternal grandfather
My mother
My friend Gary from Omaha
My paternal grandfather
My maternal grandmother
My father
My aunt Carol's sister (visitation only)
My aunt Helen (visitation only)
My former coworker Scott (visitation only)

Not too bad of a list, for someone my age. NotHideousGirl used the word "dozens" as she counted. So she won that game.

But there have also been some who've died and I didn't make it to the funeral home:

My girlfriend Jackie
My maternal grandfather
My cousin Chris
My uncle Tommy
My aunt Elaine
My parents' friend Marie

And probably some others, of varying degrees of closeness.

The point I was going to make here is that for the ten people listed first, my last memory of each and every one of them is of them lying in their caskets. And, for the six people in the second list? My last memory of them is when they were alive, talking, laughing, smiling.

I, personally, very much prefer the latter choice.

I don't like the fact that I cannot think of my mother without my brain fast-forwarding to the sight of her dead in the funeral home, with her hair done all weird and wearing makeup and a dress I'd never seen before.

My last memory of my cousin Chris was the two of us sitting in his kitchen, catching up on old times. Laughing and bullshitting about how absurd our lives had become. How grown-up the world expected us to be, when all we wanted to do was go hiking and climbing trees in the woods.

Yes, I definitely prefer the latter choice.

I've thought about this before, and I think that I've even talked with at least one of my sisters about it. The thing is, I don't want an open casket funeral. I don't want that to be the last time people see me. I'd rather just have pictures posted around the place, and maybe some home movies playing. Stuff like that.

Not my corpse, in a suit, in a box.

NotHideousGirl tells me that I'm weird. And I probably am. But this would probably count as my last wish, right?

Cremate me. Scatter my ashes somewhere pretty. And let the sound of my voice and my laugh, let them be part of your last memory of me.

Okay, I have a confession to make.

I have a difficult time picturing how big 4,000 acres is. But they keep talking on the radio about this fire somewhere. They keep saying that it's 4,000 acres big but I can't picture what that really means.

I mean, I know what one acre is. It's the size of half my yard - the part without the trees. Then, if I take all of my property, that's two acres.

But 4,000 acres?

Who talks like that?

Besides farmers?

A quick trip to the Internet tells me that 4,000 acres is 6.25 square miles. That's a little easier for me to understand.

Some quick mental calculation tells me that 6.25 square miles is the equivalent of a square that's 2.5 miles on each side.

Now that I can definitely understand. And I would venture to guess that most people could understand those terms a lot more easily than 4,000 acres.

Except for farmers I guess.

So why do they keep referring to the size of this fire in acres?

I think it's because it sounds more impressive to say 4,000 than to say 6.25.

But, if that's the reason, then why don't they just say that the thing is 174,240,000 square feet, or 25,090,560,000 square inches in size?

Either of those would be much more impressive and scary-sounding than a measly 4,000 acres.

Come to think of it, why don't men measure their penises in millimeters for the same reason?

(I don't know what happened to #1. She didn't include it because the girl she stole it from didn't include it. There are several other missing questions later on. It must be some chick thing.)

2. If you were drafted into a war, would you survive?
Probably.

3. Do you sleep with the TV on?
Any noise other than raw white noise keeps me awake. So I sleep with a fan roaring next to my bed.

4. Have you ever drank milk straight out of the carton?
When I was a kid. I have a bad feeling about this survey now.

5. Have you ever won in a spelling bee?
OMG.

6. Do you like somebody right now?
This is a kids' survey, isn't it? OMG LOL.

7. Are you a fast typer?
I'm pretty decent.

8. Are you dating anyone?
I'm going to guess that I'm not. WeirdGirl may have other ideas.

10. Who can you always turn to?
My sister Dina and RockGirl. There are probably a couple of others who wouldn't turn their backs on me.

13. Are you drinking anything right now?
Diet Pepsi.

14. Do you think you're attractive?
I answered that once in another entry:

"Maybe, in a dark enough room, to a drunk enough observer, while surrounded by lepers and zombies, I might at times be considered not ugly enough to scare children, but I'm enough of a realist to know that about the best I could ever hope for would be simply average."

15. What color underwear are you wearing (if any)?
None.

17. What do you want for Christmas?
A billion dollars. And a kitten calendar.

18. Do you know the muffin man?
Whatever.

19. Do you talk in your sleep?
I might, but you'd never be able to hear it over the snoring.

20. Who wrote the book of love?
Whatever.

23. Do you consider yourself successful?
In some areas of my life. In other, not so much.

24. How many people are on your contact list of your cell phone?
About fifty, but most of them are work people.

26. Plans for tomorrow?
Pay my property taxes, get a haircut, go to work, have lunch with NotHideousGirl, go to a funeral home, go to my home, take a nap, go to Rich O's.

28. Missing someone right now?
Yes. I actually saw her the other day at lunch, but I didn't talk to her because I wasn't sure if it counted as running into her.

29.When was the last time you told some one you love them?
January.

30.WHAT WAS THE LAST SPORT YOU PLAYED?
I shot pool in my basement tonight.

32. Are you black?
I'm kind of a peachy-tan color.

33. Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school?
Nope. Had detention a couple of times.

34. What are you looking forward to?
Finishing this survey.

36. Do you like the cake or the frosting better?
I'm not a big cake fan, but I'd have to say that I like both equally.

38. Can you handle the truth?
Absolutely.

39. Do you like green eggs and ham?
Some of these questions are really stupid, aren't they?

43. Smooth or crunchy peanut butter?
Okay, now you're really reaching.

44. What do you do when no one is watching?
I dunno.

48. Three things about the opposite sex that you first notice?
Smile, eyes, hair, if I see their face first.

49. Who are you thinking about right now?
How to answer this question.

50. Who did you last hug?
WeirdGirl I think. No, wait, it might have been NotHideousGirl.

51. Where is your phone?
Cellphone right next to me. Landline in the living room.

52. When is the last time you had a pillow fight?
A million years ago at least. With my sister.

54. Favourite Colours?
Blue, black, gray.

56. What song do you currently hear?
Nothing at the moment.

60. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
Somebody at work.

This is what happens when I'm in a weird mood.

I can't focus on any thoughts long enough to coax a decent entry out of them.

So you get this crap.

---

A former coworker of mine died yesterday. He was 35, and he was a cool guy. So on Friday I'll go to the visitation, even though I didn't really know him that well.

---

Rogue Smoke is finally available at Rich O's. Yay!

---

I forgot to mention that, the other night, HatGirl graduated from college. In addition, she surprised absolutely nobody by making the dean's list.

Yay for HatGirl!

---

For the next two days there's an art show at Rich O's. I already bought one of NotHideousGirl's paintings:

We've talked about this painting over lunch several times. I just had to have it. But this time I'm going to pay her in person, because she still hasn't got her money from the last one I bought, when I paid the guy running the art show.

---

Oh yeah, at the art show tonight it was movie night. I didn't stay for it, but I read about it. One of the films is about Darfur, so that's probably the feel-good movie of the year. Not.

---

You know how to piss off a stray cat?

Well, I'll tell you.

Go outside at night, and watch said stray run and hide underneath a pine tree with low-hanging branches. Then, walk right up to the tree and call out, "Hi there kitty! It's so nice to see you!"

See, it pisses the strays off because they think they're being so sneaky and feral.

---

I have no idea what happened to SassyGirl and JauntyGirl. They're probably off on another one of their adventures.

---

TremensGirl showed up at Rich O's this evening with red hair. She then claimed that it's always been red. I'm not fooled though.

---

I have to pee.

I think I like it best when I'm in a weird mood. Like tonight. It just seems that these are the times when I'm able to think the most clearly. About life's possibilities and shit like that.

I mean, when I'm sad, then all I can think about is whatever is making me sad. And, if I'm happy, I'm usually in shock, so I don't think much at all. I'm too busy smiling.

Tonight I watched an entire HDTV broadcast for the first time, despite the fact that I've had an HD-capable TV for three years. I bought a new antenna from Radio Shack a couple of months ago. Tonight, I hooked it up and watched Lost in high-def. Pretty cool, but I missed my Tivo's ability to fast-forward through the commercials.

I think that the Spring of 2004 was a pretty good time in my life. Sometimes I wish that I'd have been able to more fully appreciate it when it was happening. But then I remember that uncertainty principle thing. I remember that, if I'd fully seen and understood what was happening, what was about to happen, well then I'd almost certainly have changed it simply by knowing about it.

In the Spring of 2004, I was rapidly becoming a beer snob. I hung out at Rich O's with LaptopGirl, and I tried dozens and dozens of new beers. Some I liked, and some I didn't like. But all were possessed of the same potential right up until that moment when I took that first sip.

That's why I like being in a weird mood like I'm in right now. Because at times like this, life seems to have potential. I don't feel the need to fix anything, and I don't feel the urge to relish in anything, and I don't feel the urge to simply give up, or stand my ground, or fight for anything.

It's nice.

1. Do you outline?
If I feel like I'm in a hurry, then I'll outline an entry with vague plans to flesh it out later. Sometimes I even bother to follow through with that plan.

2. Do you write straight through, or do you sometimes tackle the scenes out of order?
I usually just write whatever my hands and fingers feel like writing. I don't think about the ordering of things, but I think they're usually self-enforcing.

3. Do you prefer writing with a pen or using a computer?
I like the idea of writing with a pen into a notebook, but it usually doesn't happen that way.

4.Do you prefer writing in first person or third?
I usually write in first-person mode. But some of my favorite stuff has been written in third-person.

5. Do you listen to music while you write?
I rarely listen to music except when I'm shooting pool.

6. How do you come up with the perfect names for your characters?
Perfection is a goal I rarely achieve. If I assign a nickname and I can remember it later, then that's good enough for me.

7. When you're writing, do you ever imagine your story as a television show or movie?
Nope. I've had dreams that would make good movies, though.

8. Have you ever had a character insist on doing something you really didn't want him/her to do?
Oh, wait. This is a question for real writers, isn't it? I'm going to answer not applicable.

9. Do you know how a book is going to end when you start it?
Not applicable.

10. Where do you write?
In my office usually, and also wherever I happen to be when I have my notebook handy.

11. What do you do when you get writer's block?
I drink beer. Lots and lots of beer.

12. What size increments do you write in?
What the fuck does that mean? I write whatever's in my head.

13. How many different drafts did you write for your last project?
Everything is a draft. Nothing is ever good enough.

14. Have you ever changed a character's name midway through a draft?
Yes, I changed one to YourMama when I realized that she was a whore. What a stupid question.

15. Do you let anyone read your story while you're working on it, or do you wait until you've completed a draft before letting someone else see it?
I usually finish whatever I'm writing in one sitting, so not applicable.

16. What do you do to celebrate when you finish a draft?
Masturbate furiously.

17. One project at a time, or multiple projects at once?
This talk about "projects" seems way too serious for the mental vomiting that I do.

18. Do your stories grow or shrink in revision?
I am the king of rambling, so I'd say that stories grow as they're being written.

19. Do you have any writing or critique partners?
Yeah, right. Like I'd deem anyone worthy.

20. Do you prefer drafting or revising?
I guess revising. I prefer to spew out words, then fix them later.

Like I've said before, It doesn't take much.

It's one of the good things about being a fucking willow branch.

Anyway, Monday after work, Roger, the owner of Rich O's, told me that Rogue Smoke would be there on Tuesday.

I think that his exact words were, "Rogue Smoke will be here tomorrow."

His exact words were apparently important.

Today, after work, after my nap, I was taking my newly dewrinkled shirt out of the dryer when MusicalYuppieDude texted me from Rich O's.

I asked him if Rogue Smoke was on tap.

He said that it wasn't.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit!

I thought about Roger's exact words. He hadn't, after all, said that Rogue Smoke would actually be available for purchase. He'd only said that it would be there at Rich O's.

So maybe he wasn't a big fat liar after all.

Since I was all dressed up anyway, I went down to Rich O's. Maybe, I thought, Maybe the beer board is wrong. Maybe Rogue Smoke is on tap anyway.

Well, the board wasn't wrong. Rogue Smoke wasn't on tap.

But I didn't care, because LaptopGirl was there.

Yay and fucking yay!

And, this time, she actually talked to me!

Yay and fucking double-yay!

Like I said, it doesn't take much. Especially when not much is actually everything in disguise.

So I had a Brooklyn Brown Ale (80) and talked to LaptopGirl for a bit.

Then I had a glass of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1822), which is back on tap for a while.

Then I had what was left of LaptopGirl's Guinness (1424), because she didn't want to finish it.

I was so fucking happy to talk to her! I am still so fucking happy!

After LaptopGirl left, I moved up to the bar and talked with WomanRepellant for a while. He seemed to be in a better mood than he'd been in the last time I'd seen him. Or maybe my own good mood was turning out to be contagious.

I spent some time trying to bribe the bartenders into putting the Rogue Smoke on tap. There was, after all, at least one empty tap in the place, right in front of me. But none of them would do it, so great was their fear of Roger and his official beer board, complete with tapping order.

It was a fantastic night. Just fucking fantastic.

I suppose that it's relevant that I'm pretty much blind at night; the rods of my eyes having been weakened by sparkles a couple of years ago.

Were those even real?

Does it even matter?

So, I'm blind at night, especially on nights like tonight when the Moon is nowhere to be seen. I cannot see shapes, only varying degrees of blackness.

I couldn't see the one, two, three somethings that crossed my driveway tonight, as I sat in my swing enjoying a Rogue Chocolate Stout (1576). I couldn't see them, but I could tell that they were there. They glided like ghosts, and one of them, the largest, stopped not more than fifteen feet away from me. Fascinated, perhaps, by the glow of my cigarette as it rose and fell between my lap and my mouth. I flicked the butt onto my driveway, and the shape slid silently away.

And those other things, those shadows that flitted about at the very edge of my peripheral vision? They seemed to be jockeying for position. I imagined them chattering to each other, bargaining for their favorite angles. From which to watch me. To wait for me. To attack and devour me.

But I did not fear them, those unseeable monsters that lurked in the dark. Instead, I welcomed them. It had been a long time since I'd felt their presence. I'd actually missed the pitiful horrible things.

Tonight, they left me alone. Without my fear to fuel their bravery, they eventually retreated back to their origins. Back into my own imagination.

I am perfectly content, right now.

I am, once again and finally, blissfully aware of my place in this world.

You know what I hate? Besides everything, I mean?

I hate the way that the entire context of my life changed Saturday night. How, now, no matter what I do or say or don't do or don't say, it all takes on a new relevance simply because LaptopGirl is in town.

There's a spotlight on me now, and all I can do is stand on the stage like a fucking retard. I don't sing, and I don't dance, but people still have their eyes glued to the stage. To see what I'll do.

Like, if I go to Rich O's after work today, then it's clearly because I love her and I'm hoping to run into her. And people will talk.

Or, if I go straight home after work, then I must be trying to avoid her because I hate her guts. And people will talk.

If I take a fucking shower tomorrow morning, will it be because she's in town? If I skip the shower, will it be because I've given up?

Fuck that. I hate it.

I was whining to NotHideousGirl about this today at lunch. She suggested that I just do whatever I want to do, and that I don't allow this change in context to affect any of my decisions.

Well, duh.

Of course that would be the correct play. If I were a self-centered asshole.

But I'm not, contrary to semi-popular belief. I find myself far too often caring about the comfort of certain others.

Like, when LaptopGirl said the word awkward after I waved at her. I cannot ignore that.

So, this sucks.

I can never go to Rich O's again for the rest of my life, so that she won't feel awkward.

I must go to Rich O's every night for the rest of my life, to show that I'm not afraid.

There is a solution to all of this. Unfortunately it's even harder to do than it is to say or spell it.

Spontaneous combustion.

That's the answer for me.

Of course, people would still misinterpret it, but I wouldn't be around to care.

Okay, for the sake of simplicity, let's say I'm normal on this imaginary scale I just thought up.

In fact, let's stipulate that everybody is usually normal.

It's not a looks scale. It's not a personality scale either, though that's a little bit closer. Maybe it's more of a pleasantness, or a niceness scale.

What it is, is a self-scale.

Clear as mud, right?

Let me explain.

Man I've got a lot of paragraphs already.

Does it even count as a paragraph it only has a single sentence? Is a paragraph defined by content or by spacing and/or indentation?

But I wildly digress.

What I mean is, when I feel like myself, when I am behaving like myself, I'm right in the middle on my personal scale. I'm my normal self. When my energy level is low, such as when I'm more sad or tired than normal, my position on my scale worsens. I become less likable, less friendly. When my energy level is higher, like when I'm excited or happy about something (hey, it can happen) then my position on my scale is higher.

Remember, the stipulation that everybody is normal on their own scale. This means that Richard Simmons is normal. A high-school cheerleader is normal. That Virginia Tech fucker was normal, assuming that he was always sad or moody or homicidal or whatever. Hitler was normal. He was an asshole but when he was being his asshole self, then he was also being his normal self.

There is a point to this, really. I'm not just typing to kill time. Well, maybe that's part of the reason, but it's not the only one.

I almost digressed again. Whew!

I don't know if it's really relevant, but any changes to your position must be, by definition, temporary changes. Because if whatever mood swing that's going on lasts too long, then that becomes the new you, and you become normal again. The scale just gets recalibrated. Like, I'm a lot more sad now than I was five years ago. But I was my normal self then, and I'm my normal self now. It's just that normal has changed for me. Does that make sense? I hope so.

We can also affect others, and they can affect us.

And this is the part where I finally get to the fucking point.

Couples can be similarly rated. Ditto for friends and coworkers and siblings and whatever else might bring two or more people together.

Take your average man and wife. He's normal, and so is she. But when they're together, what happens? Do they act differently than they normally would. Does he shut up so she can dominate the conversion? Does she get angry at the way he talks to other women?

What are they like as a couple? Better or worse or the same?

Do they boost each other up, so that their sum is greater than its parts? Or do they drag each other down? Do people really enjoy time with one, or with the other, but never with both at the same time?

When I was with MixedSignalGirl, we boosted each other up pretty well. Most of the time. People generally liked spending time with us. Most of the time. WeirdGirl also seems to be immune to my powers, so the two us together are probably more fun when we're together than when we're separate.

I know a few couples who don't seem to change at all. My sister Neisha and her husband Chris. My friend Eric and his wife Teri. They are exactly the same whether they're together or apart. This, to me, would seem to be the goal of all this.

I also know a few who, like the married couple in the example above, are real downers for each other. Spending time with one of them is great. Spending time with the other one is great too. But put them together and suddenly everyone starts making excuses to get away from them. Or trying to kill themselves because it's just too fucking depressing being around them.

They drag each other down, and then a sort of a singularity forms, and they start affecting everyone around them. And once that happens, the only hope is that some super-positive couple like TeamHotness shows up and reestablishes the balance in the universe.

Like I wrote yesterday, everything seems like a bad idea to me lately

This entry right here is a perfect example. I should not be writing this. There is no good that can come from writing this. It's not only a no-win situation, it's a lose-lose situation. Writing this entry will only make things worse than they already are.

Anyway.

Friday night sucked. I got this damn wild hair up my ass to go over to Louisville and check out this big Derby party they were having at Fourth Street Live.

That was a stupid idea.

As near as I could tell, there was exactly one seat in the entire complex. That seat was, fortunately, at the bar at the Hard Rock. So I sat there and had a BBC Alt (362) and talked very briefly to CoolHairGirl. But she was busy, so I didn't stick around. Nobody I knew was at The Pub, plus there were no seats available there, so I left and went to Rich O's.

I was in a shitty mood. I should have just stayed home.

But what I did instead was sit on the sofa for about ten seconds. Then people tried to talk to me so I moved to the island. I had a couple pints of a new beer:

Brooklyn Brown Ale (40)

(draft) Almost black with a decent tan head. Aroma of malts, and not much else. Same for the flavor. No bitterness. I liked it.

Saturday sucked. I spent the entire day feeling worse than I'd felt in months. Like the absence which had been my constant companion, like it had suddenly decided to turn on me. It became a giant hand which closed around my throat and squeezed as hard as it could.

Then I walked into Rich O's. I'd planned to just sit at the bar and be a hermit for a while. I was looking forward to it actually. So I walked straight through the door and straight to the bar. I ordered a Delirium Tremens (940).

Then I heard a voice.

Her voice.

I turned around, and there was LaptopGirl. Sitting with her friends BigWheelGirl and WeatherGirl.

I waved.

She waved back. I heard her say the word awkward to her friends.

And that was it. I wasn't invited over to join them, and I certainly wasn't going to impose myself on them.

So I sat at the fucking bar like a weirdo and watched my hands shake away every bit of progress I've made since last Summer.

Then I had another Tremens (957).

Then I went home (waved goodbye, got a wave back) and sat on my swing, and had a couple bottles of O'Fallon Smoked Porter (72).

Then I went to bed and stared at my ceiling until this afternoon when it was time to get ready for this family reunion thingy at my sister's house.

While there, I had four yummy bottles of Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier Weizen (171). Then I came home and wrote this crap of an entry.

Sometimes the stupidest little things strike me as hilarious.

Such as, for example, when I send a text message referring to myself as a creepy old fat fucker, and I get a response back saying that I'm not creepy.

Thanks, MusicalYuppieDude, I really needed the laugh tonight.

Sometimes I really hate it when I'm right.

I'm having a shitty day.

I don't feel like doing anything at all, and I haven't done much of anything. Shot some pool and played with my cats. Caught up on Survivor. Ate a bowl of cereal. Clipped my toenails.

Usually, when I get like this, it's because I feel like it's all a waste of time. But today it's a little different. Today everything seems like a really really bad idea.

Like anything I might do would only end up being a big fat disappointment.

Or, perhaps, I'd manage to screw up a good thing by doing or saying something stupid.

To have something turn out to be nothing more than a waste of time, that would be a welcome relief right about now.

Hmmmm, Wednesday already. Seems like I haven't posted anything in days. And it's only been since late Monday. Or just a few hours, if you count the shaved pussies entry.

My cats Buddy and Happy seem to have taken their groomings in stride. But Nugget, my other cat, is catatonic. He doesn't recognize his friends at all, and he's done nothing but cower in the basement since yesterday. I feel bad, and he's going to feel really stupid when he figures out that he's been so freaked-out and it was Happy and Buddy all along.

Anyway, SassyGirl is back in town! Yay!

She called me yesterday after work, and so of course I went down to meet her and JauntyGirl at Rich O's. The reunion wasn't as poignant as the one in March had been, but why should it have been? It's only been a few weeks this time. Still, it's always very cool to see her.

Oh yeah, she told me that her parents have admitted to reading this journal. So, Hi, SassyGirl's parents! You raised one hell of a good daughter there. I hope you're proud.

Other than seeing SassyGirl, and having two of my cats shaved, not much going on around here. At least nothing much that I can think of at the moment.

Anybody watch Heroes Monday night? That Parkman guy turned into a real dick, didn't he?

I guess that's it for now.

Before:

After:

I wrote some crap today. Spent a lot of time on it actually. But it's not finished yet. I think I might revamp the whole thing before I post it.

So, instead, you get this nonsense.

I think I might be what you'd call an old soul. An old something, that's for sure.

I'm like the stereotypical old woman, haunting her own house, alone, surrounded by photographs of days gone by, and of loved ones gone bye-bye. The memories they invoke - they bring her happiness, or they bring her sadness. But they always bring her something. And something can be everything, when the alternative is nothing.

So what if my photographs are all in my head? That makes little difference, I think.

I'm so glad that it's finally warm outside. I can go out and sit on my swing in the dark, when it's warm. I like it out there. I can be completely alone with my thoughts, or I can imagine that I'm not alone, that someone sits beside me, and the darkness of the night hides my deception from myself.

Sometimes people worry about me. They don't need to do that.

I'm just fine.

I think I'm just acting my age.