Having totally failed to learn any sort of lesson about timing from Friday night, I got to Rich O's at 6:00 or so Saturday night. To be just a little less hard on myself, I had been planning to stop at Wendy's for something to eat, but then I remembered that I'd had a pretty big lunch, so I went straight to the bar.

They were having some art show thing in the special people area, so the place was full of weirdoes. Most significant for me was that the living room area was full of weirdoes. So I sat at the island by myself. I had an NABC Flat Tyre (83).

After a little while, this uberhot girl came in, clearly looking for a place to sit. She looked at me and I smiled. She smiled back and asked, "Are you sitting by yourself?"

I said that I was, then I followed with my standard joke. "Hard to believe, isn't it?"

So she laughed, and then she left. I never saw her again.

Oh well.

I spent some time sending emails and making phone calls. I had another Flat Tyre (103). Eventually I went to check out the art show, mainly to see if there was anything by MisunderstoodGirl or NotHideousGirl on display. There was nothing from either of them.

So I tried to call NotHideousGirl about the art show. I didn't have any success in calling her, so I had the brilliant idea to just go and see her. We've kinda been in a fight, and I've been really bothered by that. I figured that I'd do what I could to help mend things between us.

I was all prepared to throw pebbles at her window, but she ruined that idea by answering the door when I knocked.

For the rest of this entry, NotHideousGirl will be referred to as Sicky McSickypants.

Because she was sick, in case the new nickname didn't make that clear.

I talked to Sicky McSickypants for a while, and I drove her to the store so she could get some juice. Then I took her back home and talked for a few more minutes.

I feel like Sicky McSickypants and I are still on the outs, but not as far out. So that's good. I agreed to help her fix her car Sunday morning. Hopefully it's just a dead battery.

Anyway.

So I went back to Rich O's and sat in the throne, because the weirdoes had cleared out during my brief absence. I had myself a bottle of yummy Aecht Schlenkerla Marzen, and then MusicalYuppieDude and I split another bottle (1546).

One thing about art shows. Besides attracting weirdoes like moths to a flame, they also attract lots of pretty girls. There'd already been the uberhot girl earlier, and usually that would satisfy the Rich O's quota for the night. But not last night.

At one point, this other uberhot girl came in and looked around wildly. I called out and asked her what she needed. Hoping that she'd say she needed a 42-year-old man to take her home and ravage her.

But no, all she wanted was to know where the restroom was.

Never have I moved so quickly. I jumped from the throne, levitated myself over the loveseat, and landed gracefully at the girl's side. Taking her hand, I told her, "It's kind of hard to explain. I'll just take you there."

Yes, I really did that. Then I led her to the restroom, and I asked her if she thought she'd need any help finding her way back. She promised to call out if she got lost.

And so that made two good deeds that I'd done that night. The first being when I went to check up on Sicky McSickypants.

Talk about satisfying a quota.

Then, for some reason, I found myself babbling on and on to MusicalYuppieDude about various upcoming events. I'm fairly confident, however, that he won't go around blabbing. I still wish that I'd kept my mouth shut.

While I was babbling to MusicalYuppieDude, yet another uberhot girl came in. She came right over to me and sat at the kiddie table. She showed me her bar bill, and said something about how she wondered if I could do something about this one $23.00 item. I promised to do what I could do.

What I could do, well pretty much all I could do was give the ticket to the bartender and tell him that the uberhot girl with the cornrows had some kind of problem with the $23.00 item.

But that still made three good deeds for me, all in the space of about three hours. I was exhausted.

I also went out and told the girl that (a) I didn't work there, and (b) I'd brought her concerns to the bartender's attention, and that (c) I really liked her hair.

Then I went back to the throne and talked to MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl and TShirtDude for a few minutes, then I came home.

It was a pretty fun night. I found out this morning that, had I just stayed up for another 10 minutes, it could have been a great night, because I missed an email that came in 10 minutes after I went to bed.

One time, around 1990, my car (Suzuki Samurai) was in the shop for a couple of weeks. I got a rental car to tide me over. It was a Honda something or other, I think.

The car would talk to me. It would say things like, "Your headlights are on," and, "Please engage the parking brake."

Shit like that.

Anyway, one of the things it would always say, if I put my keys into the ignition before the door was fully closed or if I opened the door before I took my keys out of the ignition, was, "Your door is a jar."

Not that my door was "ajar."

Nope, it was two distinct words. And it was a long A sound. A pause jar period.

My door was "A Jar," it would tell me.

And I'd always argue with the car. I'd say, "No it's not, it's a fucking door, you stupid car."

I had this brilliant idea. What made it brilliant was its utter simplicity.

I'd sit at this computer, and I'd write an entry.

---

Ta-da!

Wait, does this even count as an entry? Have I written anything, really?

Not yet, I don't think. Needs more cowbell.

---

I took the day off work today, and I didn't do shit except go to lunch and talk to BikerGirl for about thirty seconds. And drink a Newcastle (7745).

---

I can't help but wonder if I'm doing the emotional equivalent of nesting. Just cleaning house, getting everything nice and ready for what's coming. Or for what I hope is coming. As if I'm capable of telling the difference. Or of admitting to myself that there is a difference.

---

I'm in a really good mood now. I blame this particular good mood on the yummy Allagash Grand Cru (89) that I've been drinking since I came home. Before I came home, I had a couple pints of NABC Flat Tyre (63), but Rich O's was such a sausagefest that I left before 8:30.

---

I think that I want to be a part of something special. No, wait. I am part of something special already. What I want is to share something special with somebody special.

---

I've read this Blink! book a couple of times recently. If you ignore the thinly-veiled racism of the author, it's a pretty interesting book. It basically says that we should all trust our instincts. My instincts tell me two things, right now. I'm ignoring or at least discounting one, and I'm practically betting my life on the other.

---

I had another paragraph up there a few seconds ago, but I deleted it. They weren't very nice, the things that I wrote.

---

I'm thinking that certain people could use some lessons in empathy. I mean, who are certain people to judge if someone is hurting enough, or feeling pain the right way? To fail to recognize sorrow doesn't mean that it's not there. Everyone deals with pain in their own way, and sometimes denial is the only tolerable option.

---

There. I hope that's enough cowbell, because I'm kinda tired of writing.

Made a quick stop at Rich O's after work. Not really worthy of an entry except for this new NABC beer that I tried:

New Albanian Flat Tyre

(draft) Clear dark copper in color. Decent head that faded quickly. Aroma of molasses and hops, and flavor more of the same. The finish was much more smooth than the flavor indicated. I liked this beer a lot. Easily one of my favorites from NABC.

Anyway, as long as I'm typing an entry anyway...

I sat at the bar because there were weirdoes in the living room area. I had a small sample of the beer reviewed above, then a full pint. FirstGirl came and joined me for a bit. I talked to her about possible ways to make a necklace out of my rock. She's some kind of professional jeweler or something. She had some interesting ideas, and she promised to bring some demos to show me later.

Other than that, I pretty much just sat and drank my beer. TremensGirl's BFF was one of the weirdoes in the living room area, and I did my best to tune him out. Didn't have much luck though, so I bailed as soon as my glass was empty.

I never said this would be an exciting entry.

Past and present:

Soon:

See? No wonder I'm freaking out.

This will change everything.

I like brunettes with glasses. I might have mentioned that here, from time to time. I also like small blondes. And I like athletic brunettes, but I prefer soft girls even more. I generally like girls with short hair more than long-haired girls. I generally like straight hair more than curly hair. It varies. I have wide-ranging tastes.

But what's my favorite kind of girl?

Easy.

The random hot girl.

The exotic beauty driving the car in the next lane, singling along to her radio. The smoldering housewife, in front of me at the supermarket. The slinky businesswoman, crossing the street as I sit at a red light. The half-dressed girl that asked me for a cigarette at the Dallas airport. The girl at work who has no idea how pretty she really is. The girl at the bar, sipping her foo-foo concoction. The policewoman standing on the corner.

All beautiful.

All unexpected.

All random.

Out of my life before they're even in my life. Offering nothing but surprising beauty, and expecting nothing in return.

Harmlessness through anonymity.

They're my favorites, because they never get the chance to hurt me.

Most of the time, I think being a mind reader would be a pain. Because I know that there are thoughts in my own head which aren't suitable for public consumption. Unspoken insults, deviant sexual fantasies, sarcasm run amok, more deviant sexual fantasies. And that's just in the time it took me to write that sentence. So it logically follows that the thoughts and feelings of others must be the same way. Private, and better left private.

I'm pretty sure that, were I a mind reader, I'd end up hating everyone on Earth before too much time had passed. Or maybe I'd eventually get used to it and be able to accept the things I was sensing as perfectly normal human thoughts and emotions. Maybe I'd stop being repulsed and disgusted. Maybe, like a blind man suddenly given sight, I'd be overwhelmed at first, but after a while I'd be able to deal with it. The question would be whether I'd lose all capacity for compassion before I got used to it. Not worth the risk, I don't think. At least, that's what I usually think. Most of the time.

There are other times, however, when I'd love to be a mind reader for a little while. Times like right now.

There is a head that I'm dying to peek into. But not to pry. Not to rummage through her mind just to see what cool things I can find. Nib-nosing, my grandmother used to call it when I'd snoop through her chifforobe. Nope, I'd have specific questions that I'd to find the answer to.

Am I needed, right now?

Am I wanted, right now?

These are important questions, always. But perhaps now more than ever. This person, this girl who occupies my thoughts these days, she's hurting. Her life is in a turmoil of sorts. And I want to help. I need to help. I truly do. It's just that I don't know how to help. By keeping my distance? By minding my own business? Those are the things that I've been doing, the things that I've almost always done before.

Things that have been done to me, during the troubled times of my own past, mostly because that's the way I wanted it.

But she, this girl, she is not like me. I have no reason to suspect that keeping my distance is the right thing to do. I also, unfortunately for me, have no reason to suspect that I should intervene, offer an ear or a shoulder or an arm or a hand or a heart. I could end up doing more harm than good. Irreparable harm, perhaps. Hence, my dilemma. My questions.

People hurt. I get that. It hurts to be alive, way more often than it should. And, sometimes, that pain must be suffered privately. But not all the time. Not every time.

Is this time, is this time one of the former, or the latter? And, if the latter, am I a person, the person, who can help to ease her pain?

Yeah, I think that, right now, being able to read minds would be pretty cool.

I can't help but think that I'm missing out on something here. Like I'm cheating myself. Counting chickens before they hatch, and all that. I'm ignoring the present and the immediate future, and I'm absolutely ignoring the past. I seem to exist in some far-off future, six months or six years or sixty years from now. And I remember my past, I remember this particular period of my life, and I wish that I'd paid more attention to it.

I think it's just that my mind cannot fully grasp what's about to happen. Like it's too much to take in all at once. Too important to accept at any rational level. Or maybe at all. So I don't even try. Instead, I get caught up in the consequences and the probabilities and the possibilities.

For the next several weeks, some people might think that I'm trying to be funny. I've done it before, after all. Not this time, though. This time, my silence will be deadly serious.

---

I don't want to sleep tonight. I want to live. I want to experience and appreciate every second of this. That would give me one less regret for when/if I really reach that far off future.

---

Yesterday was September 24th. I didn't even realize it until it was more than halfway over.

These damn chickens are really trying my patience, such as it is.

With a bok ba-gok here, and a bok ba-gok there. Here a bok, there a ba-gok. Everywhere a bok ba-gok.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

They're so freaking fucking loud!

But I'm okay. Really.

Chickens I can handle. Or, at the very least, I can let my cats handle them for me. If it comes to that. They'd love it.

Muhaha.

And besides, these chickens are about a gazillion times better than that damn fucking gorilla ever was.

I have a doghouse, out behind my detached garage. It came with the house. I haven't had a dog in a million years; certainly not since I bought this place. But that doghouse is out of the way. So I've just left it there. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

I was outside messing around today, and I took a good look at that doghouse. It's bigger than I'd remembered. And in a lot better shape. It's actually useable as long as you're a dog.

The last time I thought about that doghouse was back in July. I took NotHideousGirl to a pet store so she could buy a doghouse. I told her that I had one behind my garage, but I was pretty sure that it was too small for even her medium-sized dog. And besides, it must be a really crappy doghouse after sitting there behind my garage for all these years.

See? Not that bad at all.

I don't remember what NotHideousGirl paid for the doghouse she ended up buying, but it was certainly more than free would have been. So now I figure I screwed her out of whatever she spent, because I was too lazy to walk behind my garage until today.

I've suddenly found myself up to my neck in chickens. I need to take some time to figure out what to do about them. If I should do anything about them.

Feathers are everywhere.

Good thing I'm not allergic.

You guys are all great, though.

For now, I rest my case.

Girls- look at your top 3 boys listed on your Myspace

Guys - look at your top 3 girls listed on your Myspace

- Don't change them!!

- Enter their names in order

- Be honest

- Repost this so your friends can do it too

1. Misty
2. Kat
3. Amanda

4. Are you older than number 1?
Bwahahaha!

2. Are you older than number 2?
Bwahahaha!

3. How did you meet number 1?
One night I was sitting at the bar at Rich O's, and she sat next to me. She kept looking at my beer. At the time, I thought, "Why is this weird girl looking at my beer?"

As it turned, out, she was deciding if I was worthy of getting to know or not. I'm glad it turned out the way it did.

4. If you were crying would number 1 cheer you up?
I think she'd laugh at me, and that would cheer me up.

5. Where is Number 3?
A gazillion miles away.

6. Have you hugged any of them?
I've hugged them all, with varying intensity.

7. Who have you known the longest?
Hard to say. I'm pretty sure that I met Kat first, but then I got to know Amanda and Misty next, before I got to know Kat.

8. Who have you know the shortest?
Again, hard to say. Probably Kat.

10. Who's the most awkward to be around?
Sometimes Misty is in a strange mood that makes it awkward. So I'll say her. The real answer is not Misty, though.

11. Are you taller than number 3?
Yes, and I'm glad you didn't ask about number 2.

12. Who's most likely to repost this?
Probably Kat. In fact, I think she already has.

13. Is any of the top 3 family?
Nope.

14. Do you trust them all?
This question almost made me not want to post this. I'm just going to answer that I don't fully trust them all, and I'll thank you to leave it at that.

15. Have you ever shared a bed with any of the top 3?
I have not.

17. Who lives the closest to you?
I don't know where Misty lives, so I'll say Kat.

18. Who do you talk to the most?
Kat.

19. Who knows the most about you?
Kat.

20. Who makes fun of you the most?
I have a feeling that it's a tie between Kat and Amanda.

21. Do you argue with number 2?
I rarely argue with anyone, so no.

22. Does number 1 have the same B-day as you?
I seriously doubt it. Oh, wait, I know that she doesn't. Her's is in May and mine's in February. This was a dumb question.

23. Would you break the law for number 2?
I have probably done so already.

1. EVER BEEN GIVEN AN ENGAGEMENT RING?
Nope, given one though.

2. LONGEST RELATIONSHIP?
Depends on how you count. I'll say five years.

3. LAST GIFT YOU RECEIVED?
I got some stuff last Christmas.

4. EVER DROPPED A CELL PHONE?
What a stupid question. Of course I have.

5. WHEN'S THE LAST TIME YOU WORKED OUT?
A long time.

6. THING(S) YOU SPEND A LOT OF MONEY ON?
Eating and drinking.

7. LAST FOOD YOU ATE?
Spaghetti and garlic bread.

8. FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX?
First thing is probably their general shape, until they get closer then I notice eyes.

9. ONE FAVORITE SONG?
Please Forgive Me by David Gray.

10. WHERE DO YOU LIVE?
In my house.

11. HIGH SCHOOL YOU ATTENDED:
Floyd Central.

12. CELL PHONE SERVICE PROVIDER:
Cingular. They're our supplier for work.

13. FAVORITE MALL STORE:
Like I care.

14. LONGEST JOB YOU HAD:
Air Force, nine years.

15. DO YOU OWN A PAIR OF DICE?
Another stupid question. Yes.

16. DO YOU PRANK CALL PEOPLE?:
Caller-ID would have put an end to that, even if becoming an adult hadn't done it already.

17. LAST WEDDING YOU ATTENDED:
Dina and Kenny.

18. FIRST FRIEND YOU'D CALL IF YOU WON THE LOTTERY:
Probably Eric.

19. LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR BEST FRIEND:
Saw one of them yesterday.

20. FAVORITE FAST FOOD RESTAURANT:
I suppose Wendy's.

21. BIGGEST LIE YOU HAVE EVER HEARD:
It will be different this time.

23. WHERE'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO EAT WITH FRIENDS?
I'm weird. I prefer to eat alone.

24. CAN YOU COOK?
Some things.

25. WHAT CAR DO YOU DRIVE?:
Toyota Pickup, Dodge Intrepid. Chevy Monte Carlo SS if I ever get the exhaust fixed.

26. BEST KISSER:
MixedSignalGirl.

27. LAST TIME YOU CRIED?:
A long time ago, in a galaxy far away.

28. MOST DISLIKED FOODS:
Stuffing.

29. THING YOU LIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF:
My ability to entertain myself by taking stupid surveys.

30. THING YOU DISLIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF?
Once I lose faith in someone, it's extremely tough for me to get it back.

32. LONGEST SHIFT YOU HAVE WORKED AT A JOB?:
Twenty-four hours or so.

33. FAVORITE MOVIE?
I like lots of movies. Nothing in particular comes to mind.

34. CAN YOU SING?
To my cats.

35. LAST CONCERT ATTENDED?
REO Speedwagon, a million years ago. Or maybe The Violent Femmes, three years ago. Depends on whether the latter could be called a concert or not.

36. LAST KISS?
I should have pressed the issue.

37. LAST MOVIE RENTED?
I don't rent movies. I just buy them. Last one I bought was Say Anything.

38.ONE THING YOU NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT:
Pants.

39. FAVORITE VACATION SPOT:
Las Vegas.

43. LAPTOP OR DESKTOP COMPUTER?:
The former at work, the latter at home.

44. FAVORITE COMEDIAN?:
Steven Wright is pretty funny. Is he still alive?

45. DO YOU SMOKE?
When I'm on fire.

46. SLEEP WITH OR WITHOUT CLOTHES?
Varies. Usually without.

47. WHO SLEEPS WITH YOU EVERY NIGHT?
My cats take shifts.

48. DO LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS WORK?:
Not in my experience.

49. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN PULLED OVER BY THE POLICE?
I dunno. Maybe once when I was a kid. Or maybe never.

50. PANCAKES OR FRENCH TOAST?
Pancakes.

51. DO YOU LIKE COFFEE?:
Blech.

52 HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?
Scrambled.

53. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY?:
I acknowledge its existence, if that's what you mean.

54. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
If I don't count work people, then SassyGirl.

55. LAST PERSON ON YOUR MISSED CALL LIST?:
SassyGirl.

56. WHAT WAS THE LAST TEXT MESSAGE YOU RECIEVED?:
"Don't be such a stranger!"

58. NUMBER OF PILLOWS?:
Two.

59. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?:
Imperial Stormtrooper costume. Crotchless, of course.

60. PICK A LYRIC, ANY LYRIC:
"This year's love had better last."

61. WHAT KIND OF JELLY DO YOU LIKE ON YOUR PB & J?:
I neither know nor care.

62. CAN YOU PLAY POOL?
Better than you can, probably.

63. CAN YOU SWIM?
I could postpone drowning for a while.

64. FAVORITE ICE CREAM?:
Vanilla-fudge swirl.

65. DO YOU LIKE MAPS?
Yet another stupid question. Okay, fine - maps are cool.

66. TELL ME A RANDOM FACT ABOUT YOURSELF:
Sometimes I can't think of a good answer to a survey question.

68. EVER ATTEND A THEME PARTY?:
Do Halloween parties count? If so, then yes.

69. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON?
Summer.

70. LAST TIME YOU LAUGHED AT SOMETHING STUPID?
When TremensGirl told me some stupid jokes tonight.

71. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP THIS MORNING ?
6:00.

72. BEST THING ABOUT WINTER?:
Snow.

73. LAST TIME A COP GAVE YOU A TICKET?:
In 1996 or so, for not having insurance.

75. NAME OF YOUR FIRST PET?:
Tiger. He was a cat. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

76. DO YOU THINK PIRATES ARE COOL OR OVERRATED?:
Fictional pirates are cool. Real-life pirates seem to be assholes though. What with all the raping and murdering.

77. WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS WEEKEND??
Waiting.

78. BIRTHDATE
February 20th.

79. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE:
A writer.

85. ARE YOU ON A LAPTOP?:
No.

87. ARE YOU SMILING?:
Always.

89. DO YOU MISS SOMEONE RIGHT NOW?
A couple of people.

90. IF YOU COULD GO ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD WHERE WOULD YOU GO?
Some warm deserted beach would be pretty nice.

92. ARE YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL?:
No, I'm in my house.

93. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?:
A couple.

94. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NAME?
Belvedere Jehosephat.

95. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BATHING SUIT?:
Technically, they're trunks. And they're yellow.

96. DOES YOUR SCHOOL START IN AUGUST?
What's with all the school questions?

97. DID YOU GO ON VACATION LAST MONTH?:
Took vacation from work. Didn't go anywhere though.

98. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A CRUISE?:
Yes. One of those barefoot cruise thingies.

99. DO YOU HAVE A SISTER
Two of them.

100. ARE YOU UPSTAIRS?
It depends. I'm not in my basement, but I'm on the ground floor of my house. Does that count as upstairs?

101. ARE YOU IN LOVE?
Absolutely.

102. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL?
Yes, a few times.

103. DO YOU WISH YOU COULD SEE ANYONE PARTICULAR RIGHT NOW?
A few people come immediately to mind.

104. WHAT JEWELRY ARE YOU WEARING?
None.

105. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO AFTER THIS?
Watch TV.

So I've been toying with the idea of quitting this blogging thing.

I have this urge to quit, every now and then. This feeling of futility about what I'm doing here. I usually get over it quickly enough, and I'll probably get over it again.

I've been blogging for almost exactly four years now. It's been a lot of fun, most of the time. It's been very therapeutic, a lot of the time. But I've been wondering, a lot lately, if maybe I've run out of things to say here.

See, I have no grief. None. And this is a problem because the only things I've ever written that were worth a shit were those things that either dealt with grief, or were at least written with grief in the background. As context.

And now? There's no grief. There's joy.

And you know what joy is?

Fucking boring, that's what it is.

---

I thought of the funniest thing today. I emailed it to RockGirl, and that's as far as it went. I certainly can't write about it here, because the target of my humor reads this fucking blog. And she, if she were to read my funny thought, she would think that it was cruel. And she'd be right. It is a cruel thought. But it's still funny.

---

This whole happiness thing - it's new to me. I don't know how to write about it. I probably could write about it, if I had sufficient motivation, but I don't.

I think that, I think that being sad is what made me write. And I think that being happy is having the opposite effect. Urging me to stop. Before I fuck up a good thing.

It's happened before, after all.

I'm not really sure which was the first. I've got it narrowed down to two girls, two occasions, but the passage of time has blurred my memory to the point where I can no longer be certain about the order of things. Like, I'm pretty sure that I kissed both those girls after that comet killed all the dinosaurs, but I wouldn't want to bet anything substantial on it.

So I don't remember which was my first real kiss. But I do remember them both. They were passionate, each of them. And full of promises that neither of us was ready to keep. There was none of this sweet and gentle and perfunctory crap that I've been so wont to do lately. To show that I'm a good guy, at least at first. Back then, a kiss was all you were going to get, so you damn sure needed to make the best of it.

I'm pretty sure that I could remember all of my first kisses. I don't mean that I could list them right now off the top of my head, but if I thought about it long enough, I probably could. And if I heard a name or saw a face or had something like that come along to help jog my memory, then I definitely could.

I was thinking tonight about a few of my first kisses. From the drunken and playful and inevitable kiss of that night last Winter, to that fascinated experimental kiss a couple of weeks ago, to that romantic kiss in Las Vegas in June, to that initially timid kiss that somehow lasted an entire weekend in late 2004, to that incredible indefinable kiss a few months earlier that still makes me weak in the knees when I think about it.

I don't know why I've never written about kissing before. About lips. I've written about hands, and I've written about eyes, but not lips. I don't know why. Maybe, maybe kissing just seems too personal, even for me to write about. Maybe hand-holding and eye-gazing are just fine, but kissing belongs in the same realm as sex, and I never write about sex. Nobody wants to read about that - they only want to have it. Maybe kisses are the same way.

Anyway, I like kissing. It's my favorite. I just thought I'd share that little tidbit. You know, just in case anyone wants to make out or something.

It's late. I need to try to get some sleep. But I somehow know, without even trying, that sleep is going to elude me tonight.

---

How many people, I wonder, spend their entire lives wondering what they want? Suspecting, theorizing, guessing. Picking goals at random, or because their parents did it, or because they saw it on TV or read it in a book.

---

Wouldn't it be ironic, I wondered this afternoon, if I quit my job and sold all of my possessions and moved a thousand miles away?

---

The whole thing is so fucking lopsided. I hate that it's like this. I hate that I can only find clarity for a couple of hours on a cool Sunday afternoon, before the fog and the haze creeps back into my life.

And yet I always welcome it, this confusion and this fuzziness.

Because everything is hidden in that fog.

I'm looking, right now as I type this sentence, at a picture of the most beautiful woman I've ever known. The most fascinating person I've ever known.

She's there, in the fog. And I'm there too. But we're not there together. We're both alone. Arms outstretched. Groping.

I wonder if we will ever find each other.

I wonder.

I spent the first half of Sunday not doing a damn thing worth noting. That's my privilege, and I don't regret it.

Then I spent an hour or so out messing with my Monte Carlo. The engine wouldn't turn over, so I had to hook the battery charger up before it would start. I guess maybe my battery has gone bad after all. Oh well, that's not a big deal compared to the water pump that I still hope to have replaced before I die of old age, or even compared to the window switch that continues to vex me.

I picked up the half-dozen or so pieces of the broken switch that I could find, and sometime this week I'll return them to the person I bought the switch from. I've been promised a replacement, but I'm not feeling very optimistic. For now, I've gone ahead and put the original switch back in, because at least it works, even if it is a pain in the ass to use.

After I'd let the Monte Carlo run for a half and hour or so, just to keep things lubricated, I put it back into the garage and went into the house.

That's when something good happened.

I got to spend almost two hours talking to MixedSignalGirl. Until the battery on her phone died. It was just incredibly good to talk to her. It was exactly what I needed.

(By the way, Dina. Remember that girl who was afraid to ever even meet you? She sends all her love and condolences to you. Trust me, that's a really big deal.)

So I spent a fantastic couple of hours on the phone, then I spent a horrible couple of hours as, once again, the truth of the (lack of a) situation between us ripped fresh wounds into me. But it was, overall, pretty fucking wonderful to talk to her.

Then, at about 6:00, I went to this Mac's bar to meet up with SassyGirl and JauntyGirl and EuropeanDude. We had a very nice and pleasant time together. I had some Newcastles (7605) and we all got to see The World's Craziest Guy in action. That guy is probably worth an entry all on his own. Maybe I'll do that some other time.

Okay, fine. I'll write something. Don't particularly feel like it though. Plus it's mostly irrelevant. And boring. You've been warned.

---

Friday, I took a day of vacation, as I had a bunch of shit to do. I guess I did the mandatory things, such as re-register my cars and have lunch with NotHideousGirl. The car thing went much more smoothly than I'd expected because I found out that they've discontinued the emissions tests here. So that was cool. Lunch was fairly smooth as well, though there's still something wrong between us. Something that's not quite definable but still noticeable and disconcerting and irritating.

Anyway, at lunch I had a couple pints of Newcastle (7521) and then a Diet Coke while NotHideousGirl and I talked and pretended that nothing was wrong. Oh yeah, I also got to see BikerGirl for the first time in a couple of weeks. So that was nice.

While we were sitting at The Pub, my phone rang. Vibrated, actually, but whatever.

It was SassyGirl! Yay! But I sent her to voicemail because I didn't want the first time I'd seen NotHideousGirl in two weeks to be interrupted.

So, after lunch, I went and took care of some more shit, then I stopped at Rich O's. I ordered a Spezial (1712) and called to check my voicemail.

SassyGirl is in town! Yay and yay!

I called her and she said that they'd come to Rich O's and meet me. The "they" ended up being SassyGirl, JauntyGirl, and some European dude who I never saw before. So I gave SassyGirl a huge hug, and I gave JauntyGirl a medium-sized hug, and I shook EuropeanDude's hand. It was all quite touching and moving.

SassyGirl and I got to talking about some of the changes that had taken place at Rich O's since her last visit. The most noticeable being the new pint glasses with the NABC logo on them, and the sampler trays with their miniature NABC glasses. She hadn't seen the sampler trays, so I asked FutureDude to show us one.

I guess I wasn't clear enough, or FutureDude didn't hear well enough, but instead of just bring a tray for us to ooh and aww over, he bought a full sampler tray. Complete with six beer samples.

Oh well, right? Beer is beer. Couldn't let it go to waste.

I ended up drinking the samples of NABC's Croupier (8), Bob's 15B Porter (124), and Community Dark(224). And I didn't hate any of them. The Bob's especially seemed to have undergone yet another transformation since I'd had it last. It was quite good.

I ended up having another Spezial (1732) before SassyGirl and team left to go to some HickFest in my hometown. Then I came home and took a nap.

---

Friday night I was, not surprisingly, hung-over. It wasn't so much the quantity of beer I'd had earlier, it was the mixing of all those different styles. So I went to Rich O's and sat on the throne and had a few Diet Cokes. Once I felt better I had a Spezial (1752) and then a Paulaner (409).

There were people there and stuff, but I never really felt like talking to anyone, so I didn't.

---

On Saturday I went to The Pub to see BikerGirl. I had lunch and a Newcastle (7541) and then a BBC Jefferson's Reserve Bourbon Barrel Stout (521). I also bought the DVD set of Heroes season one, and I'm pretty excited about that.

---

Saturday night, Rich O's was about half full. That was the good news. The bad news was that the crowd that was there was about 90% weirdoes. Luckily, the island was unoccupied so I sat there. I had a Spezial (1772). After a while, the weirdoes ran TremensGirl off the sofa so she came and joined me. We talked a couple of minutes before WomanRepellant came in and joined us. Sure enough, TremensGirl moved back to the sofa at the first opportunity.

(I just left out a very relevant thing that I did.)

So I talked to WomanRepellant for a while and had another Spezial (1792). Once he'd gone, and once The Weirdo King had vacated the throne, I moved over there and sat. Mostly I just listened to TremensGirl and this one blonde girl talk about how they think various celebrities are smoking hot. How they managed to think about other hot celebrities with me sitting right there in their midst, I'll never know.

At some point I had another Spezial (1812) and then I switched to Diet Coke for the rest of the night.

After last-call, TremensGirl and the blonde girl and her boyfriend wanted to go over to this Jack's bar. I wasn't planning to go, but then about 10 seconds after they'd left MusicalYuppieDude came in and he also invited me over there. So I went. I had a couple more Diet Cokes and mostly just listened to everyone else talk.

The blonde girl guessed my age at 30. I gave her another guess, and she guessed 34. So I told her that I loved her, but really I just like her a a friend.

(I just left out several more incredibly relevant things that happened.)

Then I came home and ate some catfish tenders from Famous Dave's that I'd bought earlier and watched the unaired pilot of Heroes from my new DVD set.

---

I told you it was boring.

When I can't and/or won't bring myself to write about anything important, all that left is the unimportant stuff.

I did some things. I saw some people, drank some beer, ate some food, took a nap, saw some more people, and drank some more beer.

But it was all, just, irrelevant. Completely out of context with my life. Just tiny little inconsequential things, keeping the clock company as it ticks and ticks and ticks.

Meanwhile, I'm starting to get a little excited. I definitely need to stop that feeling. For excitement only leads to disappointment. Still, both of those things are at least relevant.

I'm in such a good mood. That's relevant, too.

Hot.

European.

Lesbians.

Every second. Every minute. Every hour and day and month and year. Every life. They happen exactly one time. You only get one shot.

We all know this. Awareness of this simple fact is always there, in our minds. At varying levels.

Sometimes this awareness lies buried below the mundane minutiae of living. Sometimes it's pushed aside as we play things safe. Sometimes, sometimes it's the most obvious and obnoxious thing in our lives, and it consumes our every thought and word and action.

There are so many things that I've missed. Opportunities that I've squandered. Chances that I've not taken. Feelings that I've denied. Hints that I've ignored.

Gone, forever. All of them. Time lost to its own passage.

Not again, I tell myself.

I'll take that chance, I promise myself.

We'll see, I suppose.

It's all coming together. Everything that I ever wanted and dreaded and wished for and needed and craved and feared - it's all going to happen. There will come a time when I'll have to either act, or not. Say something, or not. Do something, or not.

And that second, when I have to decide, when I'm once again given an opportunity to take that chance that I haven't taken, so many times, that second will pass quickly into the past with all its brethren.

That moment in time will happen once, and then it will be gone forever.

I wonder what I'll do, during that precious second.

I totally forgot to mention that I've booked my next trip to Las Vegas. After Thanksgiving I'll be there for a week, for the same conference I attend every year. It's always been at The Rio, but now they're moving it to The MGM Grand. This is probably a good thing, especially since The Tilted Kilt will surely be gone from The Rio by then, but it will still feel pretty weird. I think I'm actually feeling a little ambivalent about the whole trip.

I wonder if I should try to call StupidGirl. I guess I've got almost three months to decide.

---

I thought I'd have more to write, but I guess not. Except that women are strange. And everybody already knows that.

I suppose that the implications of this are slowly creeping their way into my head. This would explain my urge to run, hard and fast and far away. This would also explain my urge to sing and dance and shout with joy.

The thing is, I don't think I'm really allowed to be happy about this news. It's not a happy turn of events, for anyone except me, maybe. And, let's face it, I don't matter even a tiny bit. Especially as far as this is concerned.

The other thing is, I don't think I'm supposed to be sad about this either. I mean, a normal person would be selflessly and empathetically sad, but I never claimed to be normal. Especially as far as this is concerned. So if I'm sad then that sadness is a lie at some level. And I don't want to lie. Not about this. It's too important.

---

Like most people who've had their faith shaken, I often find myself looking for a miracle, to restore that faith. Unlike most people, however, I get my miracles. And I'm overjoyed, for a week or so. And I smile, for a month or two. But then, it fades. And then, I look for the next miracle. Because it's never enough.

The next miracle is coming. I know it's coming.

Maybe it will come tonight.

I hope so.

---

When it finally happens, I'll probably just do what I always do. Wait and see, bide my time, until it's too late. That's at least familiar to me, mundane even.

I would be a terrible poker player. I'd never raise, and I'd never fold my hand. I'd do nothing but call and call and call and call. And then eventually I'd go bust, and I'd be shocked and outraged at the horrible luck I'd encountered.

---

I'm not particularly afraid anymore. I'm not sure what the word to describe my state might be. It would be a word that meant I'm eternally grateful for what I have, even though I continue to want more. It would be a word that meant I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth, because I fear it might bite me. It would be a word that meant I will take my medicine, even though it tastes like shit, because I know it will make me all better.

Such a word exists, I'm sure. But I can't think of it right now.

---

You ever wait for something for so long that the waiting becomes a part of who you are?

Well, I have.

And then, when the wait was finally over, you didn't quite feel like yourself anymore?

Well, I have.

---

It just struck me.

I've been using the word wait instead of the word wish.

That's pretty fucking relevant, right there.

Stupid though, because I know the difference between the two, and still I chose the former.

I wonder when I shifted from wishing to waiting. Probably in May. May was a great month.

---

I wonder how long I can hold my breath.

It was a quick after-work trip to Rich O's today. Mainly because Monday nights are my pizza nights. Plus, sometimes they have beer there. Or so I've heard.

I got there at 5:30 or so. I checked the beer board, and saw that Marzen was all gone. So that sucked. But there were still four smoked beers on tap, so I figured that I probably wouldn't die of thirst.

At first, I sat at the bar because a group of weirdoes was infesting the living room area. I tried to remember if I liked Spezial or Schlenkerla Weizen better, but I couldn't decide. So I attempted, for a third time, to have a glass of the new NABC smoked beer. This time I managed to swallow three times before killing myself seemed preferable to swallowing again.

I hate that I don't like that beer. I mean, I like rye beer, and I like smoked beer. But combine the two? No, thank you. It still sounds good on paper though.

What I ended up having was a Schlenkerla Urbock (67). A little stronger than the Marzen I'd been hoping for, but I figured that I needed something stronger to wash my mouth out after what I'd just tried. The Urbock was quite yummy, and it was just what I needed.

At about the time my beer arrived, TremensGirl and IForgetHisNameDude came in. The weirdoes were still in the living room area, so they sat at the kiddie table. Then the weirdoes all left, and I moved to the throne. TremensGirl and IForgetHisNameDude stayed at the kiddie table and talked. Probably about football.

After a half-hour or so, during which I ordered a pizza and finished my beer, I got up and went back to the bar to pay my tab. I'd been out of my seat for less than a second when TremensGirl and IForgetHisNameDude zoomed from the kiddie table to the loveseat. I don't think that the cushion on the throne had even had time to lose the impression left upon it by my ass.

Clearly, they were waiting for me to leave the area. Clearly, to them, I was a weirdo! And they'd avoided sitting with me just as I'd, not an hour earlier, avoided sitting with the weirdoes who'd been there when I came in.

So after I'd paid my tab and picked up my pizza, I threw a big turd in their fan. I went and sat down on the sofa and *gasp* started talking to them.

Oh, the horror!

Of course they denied that their sudden relocation had anything to do with me. But I knew better. I clearly and distinctly heard the sonic boom that they created when they moved from the kiddie table to the loveseat.

This is another reason that I am the way that I am.

I thought briefly about fucking with them some more, by staying and eating my pizza and ordering another beer and *gasp* talking to them some more. But I didn't because I'm pretty poor this week.

Then, when I got home, I saw that my pepperoni and sausage pizza was instead an artichoke pizza. So I didn't eat any of it, and now I'll probably starve to death. But at least I won't die of thirst.

Dammit!

There's a fucking corn maze less than a mile from my house!

And here I am, fresh out of friends to go to the corn maze with me.

I've never been to a corn maze. I bet it would be cool. And probably scary if we did it at night.

Waaaaaaah!

My weekend started out nicely enough, Friday after work, when HatGirl's dog bit me. And it was one of the nice dogs. Okay, I guess they're all nice dogs, but two of them are regular nice and the other is super-spazzoid nice to the point of being mean.

It was one of the regular nice dogs that bit me. Didn't break the skin though, it just bruised my palm.

Anyway, then I went home and took a nap. I didn't set my alarm because I wasn't really planning to go out. I just figured that if I woke up in time, I'd go out, and if not, I wouldn't. But I did wake up, and while I was getting dressed and stuff TremensGirl texted me to let me know that the requisite band of Friday weirdoes had just left Rich O's.

That was pretty good timing, I think.

I went to Rich O's and had a couple Schlenkerla Marzens (1249) and talked to TremensGirl and MusicalYuppieDude until they started kicking everyone out. Then I came home and sat on my swing and had another Marzen (1266) and drunk-emailed NotHideousGirl.

So that was Friday.

On Saturday, I spent an hour or so out working on my Monte Carlo. I'd bought a new power window switch for the driver's door (the thingy on the old one had snapped off) and so I took my door apart, put the new switch in, and put the door back together. Imagine my dismay when, upon testing the new switch, I found that it didn't work for shit. It wouldn't control the driver's window at all, and it would only open the passenger's window but not close it.

So that sucked.

What sucked even more was that, when I started taking my door back apart to, I dunno, check the electrical connection or something, the entire new switch assembly exploded into about a dozen pieces of deadly shrapnel.

I spent the bulk of my Saturday, after that, either shooting pool downstairs or watching the rest of my Lost season two DVDs. I was going to take a nap but, as usual, my cats started fighting so I couldn't sleep.

Then, at 6:30 or so, I went over to this O'Sheas place in Louisville to meet up with my sisters and their families. Later, we were all going to a tribute gig being put on by my nephew's friends. The O'Sheas part was just to have a couple beers and eat something.

I had a couple small classes of Newcastle (7439) and about three bites of some disgusting chicken tenders that were about 90% breading. Then, we all went over to this Tailgater's place to listen to Cory's friends play and sing. They're all really talented. At Tailgater's, I was very pleasantly surprised to see BBC Nut Brown Ale on tap, so I had three small glasses of that (100). It was yummy and malty, just like I remembered it.

Once I got bored, I came home and sat on my swing and had a Marzen (1283) and drunk-texted TremensGirl for a while. Oh yeah, I drunk-emailed StalkerGirl too.

I'm in a better mood now. Not that it was a great feat or anything, as there was nowhere to go except up. But still, it's something.

Today I was treated like shit. By someone who is, ostensibly at least, a friend of mine. I may have deserved it. I almost always deserve it.

And you know what?

It was okay.

I got over it.

Also, maybe to make up for being treated like shit, I made a brand-new friend today. Here's a picture:

This is Dilly. He's an Armadillo. I never saw him before today. He stands on a shelf at Rich O's, and he moves his head up and down and side to side, following the whim of the air currents in the room.

He's fucking awesome, and I may steal him.

Also, I'm feeding these dogs while my friend is on vacation. One of the dogs is a major pain in the ass. It won't let me even think about petting either of the other dogs. If I try, it starts growling and biting. It's an asshole.

Also, my friend's cat is still afraid of me. But for the last two days I've given it kitty treats, and it's at least eating them. After I've left the room, of course. Maybe, in a zillion years or so, I'll be able to actually pet that cat. This has become my new goal in life.

Also, I'm pretty sure that, after a week of taking care of this 8,000,000 gallon aquarium with its $8,000,000 worth of exotic fish, I'll qualify for a commercial pilot's license. That will be cool, I think. Chicks dig pilots.

Also, I really need to take a break for lunch tomorrow. I hope I can spare the time away from work. I want to see BikerGirl and NotHideousGirl. And I really should talk to NotHideousGirl before it's too late to talk. If it's not too late already.

Also, they're having a sex clinic or something across the street from my work tomorrow. I don't know much more than that, but the information is here.

I guess that's it.

A couple of weeks ago, I rattled off four things without hesitation. Just four stupid things, each helping to fuel my irritation.

Then, almost an hour later, I thought of a fifth point. It was almost an afterthought, really. At least that's what I believed at the time.

And now, that fifth thing is consuming me. Fear of what it could eventually do is threatening to overwhelm me.

From its beginning as a stupid and irrelevant speck of irritation, it has grown into a stain on my psyche. And this stain is spreading. It's threatening to skew every perception I have. To destroy every bit of good will and affection I possess. And I don't know if I can stop it. I'm terrified that it might already be too late.

I actually had a dream about something similar to this once. Back then, in my dream, I was able to stop the darkness which was flowing from me. I was able to stop it because I stopped myself.

I figure it's worth a shot. If, by going into a sort of social exile, I can manage to stop this flow, maybe even reverse its progress, well then exile will be worth it.

And if not? Well, if not, then I'm truly fucked. And not in the good way. Because I don't have a plan B.

This could be bad. I mean, it's already bad, but it could be worse. I have to do something to stop it. There's too much at stake for me to simply ignore it. Everything is threatened.

Dedicated stalkers will, of course, recognize that this is where I live.

Between my house and my detached garage? That little structure is my swing. One of my favorite things to do on the warm nights is sit on my swing and contemplate various things. So, Saturday night, hoping to somewhat salvage my mood, I got myself a Left Hand Smoke Jumper (100) and went out to my swing to do some contemplating.

Right behind my swing is a tree. You can probably see it in the picture. Anyway, As I sat down, I heard this rustling from under the tree. My eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark yet, so I couldn't see anything. Then I heard the rustling again. Closer this time.

"Kitty kitty?" I asked hopefully.

Then there was more rustling, and something, some thing ran under the swing and across my driveway to the front of the house.

And it wasn't no damn kitty.

From what little I could see about its size and the way it moved, I'm guessing it was a big raccoon. Or a small grizzly bear.

Yes, it freaked me out a little. Rabies probably wouldn't be a fun way to die. Being mauled and/or eaten probably wouldn't be that great either.

This thing pretty much nailed me, but with only six categories, it seems to me to be fairly limited.

---

Below is Dr. Phil's test. (Dr. Phil scored 55; he did this test on Oprah - she got a 38.) Some folks pay a lot of money to find this stuff out!

Read on, this is very interesting!

Don't be overly sensitive! The following is pretty accurate and it only takes 2 minutes. Take this test for yourself and send it to your friends.

The person who sent it placed their score in the e-mail subject box. Please do the same before forwarding to your friends (send it back to the person who sent it to you.) Don't peek, but begin the test as you scroll down and answer.

Answers are for who you are now --- not who you were in the past. Have pen or pencil and paper ready

This is a real test given by the Human Relations Dept. at many of the major corporations today. It helps them get better insight concerning their employees and prospective employees. It's only 10 Simple questions, so grab a pencil and paper, keeping track of your letter answers to each question.

Make sure to change the subject of the e-mail to read YOUR total. When you are finished, forward this to friends/family, and also send it to the person who sent this to you. Make sure to put YOUR score in the subject box.

Ready?

Begin.

1. When do you feel your best?

a) in the morning
b) during the afternoon and early evening
c) late at night
B

2. You usually walk...

a) fairly fast, with long steps
b) fairly fast, with little steps
c) less fast head up, looking the world in the face
d) less fast, head down
e) very slowly
A

3. When talking to people you.. .

a) stand with your arms folded
b) have your hands clasped
c) have one or both your hands on your hips
d) touch or push the person to whom you are talking
e) play with your ear, touch your chin, or smooth your hair
C

4. When relaxing, you sit with...

a) your knees bent with your legs neatly side by side
b) your legs crossed
c) your legs stretched out or straight
d) one leg curled under you
D

5. When something really amuses you, you react with...

a) big appreciated laugh
b) a laugh, but not a loud one
c) a quiet chuckle
d) a sheepish smile
C

6 When you go to a party or social gathering you...

a) make a loud entrance so everyone notices you
b) make a quiet entrance, looking around for someone you know
c) make the quietest entrance, trying to stay unnoticed
B

7. You're working very hard, concentrating hard, and you're interrupted...

a) welcome the break
b) feel extremely irritated
c) vary between these two extremes
C

8. Which of the following colors do you like most?

a) Red or orange
b) black
c) yellow or light blue
d) green
e) dark blue or purple
f) white
g) brown or gray
E

9. When you are in bed at night, in those last few moments before going to sleep you are...

a) stretched out on your back
b) stretched out face down on your stomach
c) on your side, slightly curled
d) with your head on one arm
e) with your head under the covers
D

10. You often dream that you are...

a) falling
b) fighting or struggling
c) searching for something or somebody
d) flying or floating
e) you usually have dreamless sleep
f) your dreams are always pleasant
C

POINTS:

1. (a) 2 (b) 4 (c) 6
2. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 7 (d) 2 (e) 1
3. (a) 4 (b) 2 (c) 5 (d) 7 (e) 6
4. (a) 4 (b) 6 (c) 2 (d) 1
5. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 3 (d) 5 (e) 2
6. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 2
7. (a) 6 (b) 2 (c) 4
8. (a) 6 (b) 7 (c) 5 (d) 4 (e) 3 (f) 2 (g) 1
9. (a) 7 (b) 6 (c) 4 (d) 2 (e) 1
10 (a) 4 (b) 2 (c) 3 (d) 5 (e) 6 (f) 1

Now add up the total number of points.

OVER 60 POINTS: Others see you as someone they should "handle with care." You're seen as vain, self-centered, and who is extremely dominant. Others may admire you, wishing they could be more like you, but don't always trust you, hesitating to become too deeply involved with you.

51 TO 60 POINTS: Others see you as an exciting, highly volatile, rather impulsive personality; a natural leader, who's quick to make decisions, though not always the right ones. They see you as bold and adventuresome, someone who will try anything once; someone who takes chances and enjoys an adventure. They enjoy being in your company because of the excitement you radiate.

41 TO 50 POINTS: Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out. You are very loyal to your friends and lovers. People find it easy to come to you with their problems, you are someone they can always rely on

31 TO 40 POINTS: Others see you as sensible, cautious, careful & practical. They see you as clever, gifted, or talented, but modest. Not a person who makes friends too quickly or easily, but someone who's extremely loyal to friends you do make and who expect the same loyalty in return. Those who really get to know you realize it takes a lot to shake your trust in your friends, but equally that it takes you a long time to get over if that trust is ever broken.

21 TO 30 POINTS: Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy. They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder. It would really surprise them if you ever did something impulsively or on the spur of the moment, expecting you to examine everything carefully from every angle and then, usually decide against it. They think this reaction is caused partly by your careful nature.

UNDER 21 POINTS: People think you are shy, nervous, and indecisive, someone who needs looking after, who always wants someone else to make the decisions & who doesn't want to get involved with anyone or anything! They see you as a worrier who always sees problems that don't exist. Some people think you' re boring. Only those who know you well know that you aren't.

Now forward this to others, and put your score in the subject box of your e-mail, like this:

Dr. Phil's Test, I'm a...

That's all it was. All it ever was. Probably all it ever would be.

But, it was still nice to look at, and fun to build. It was an interesting challenge, I think. And, I'll admit, I often caught myself wondering what it would look like once we'd finished piecing it together. Once we got to the point where we could step back and declare it complete.

It didn't topple for the reason I'd thought it would.

But it did topple.

And I suppose that's all that really matters, in the end.

There are always excuses. Always. Sometimes they're even good ones. Believeable ones. But not very often. Most of the time, they're lies.

Cruelty isn't nearly as common, I don't think. But perhaps it's its relative rarity that makes it sting so much.

Most of the time, I see right through the lies to the truth. Most of the time, I pretend to be a believer, because to cast light on the truth would make the liar feel uncomfortable. Because I would be doing it for the wrong reasons. Because it would be not for truth, but for validation. Because it would be cruel.

And I'm not cruel.

Most of the time, I ignore the cruelty when it comes my way. Most of the time, I bite my tongue and I wait for the excuse that will surely follow. Or for the lie that will surely follow. And then I close my mouth and I pretend to swallow.

Most of the time. But I fear that I'm about to be cruel. I'm teetering on the edge. Like, the next time someone lies to me, I feel like I may just call them on their lie. Or, the next time someone says something cruel to me, I may just blurt out the first response that pops into my head.

I think that everyone needs to stay away from me for a while. I'll do my part, I hope that others do theirs.

For the record, I do not like what has become of me lately. I seem to have reverted to my 23-years-old self. I don't like it one tiny bit.

Sometimes, I think that I must have unnaturally strong finger muscles.

Maybe that's why I'm still surprised that most people can ever seem to lift a fucking finger, when that's all it would take to brighten my day and lighten my mood. Make this bullshit I use for a life seem worthwhile.

Maybe, for most people, it's hard or even impossible to lift a finger. Maybe I should stop expecting the impossible.

May as well expect people to start shitting solid gold bricks.

'Cause that's not gonna happen either.

My best friend on Earth, who I've never really met, gave me a t-shirt for my birthday a couple of years ago.

It's a gray t-shirt with the letters WTF? emblazoned in black. I'd post a picture of me wearing it, but that shirt is dirty and wrinkled right now. Come to think of it, I'm dirty and wrinkled right now. So no picture, sorry.

Anyway, lately, I've found myself wishing that I had a dozen of those shirts.

Because then I could wear them every day for the rest of my life, or until that question finally gets answered. I'd be able to go through life and I'd never have to open my mouth. I could just point to the front of my shirt.

I want to ask my boss, WTF?

I want to ask my sister, and I want to ask NotHideousGirl, and I want to ask MixedSignalGirl, and I want to ask LaptopGirl, and I want to ask BadPickleGirl and WeirdGirl and I even want to ask TremensGirl.

I want to ask them all, WTF?

The actual question would be different in every case, but the actual wording of the question could be the same. It would be all efficient and shit

---

Meanwhile, today it will be six weeks since MixedSignalGirl left. I'm still waiting for that fact to really hit me. I am in such deep denial, I'm surprising even myself.

Nobody really knows what this is about. Except for my best friend, who I've never really met.

As I write this, I'm sitting at Hooter's in Clarksville, notebook in hand. Or notebook on bar actually. It's my pen that's in my hand. I bet it would be a lot harder to write if those positions were reversed.

The perverts next to me keep hitting on the pretty bartenders and scaring them away. This really sucks for me, because I'd kinda like to surreptitiously drool look at the pretty bartenders, but I can't when they keep getting scared away to the other end of the bar.

Anyway, I'm here with my notebook because I'm thinking that a change of scenery might do me some good. Inspire me or something, maybe. I probably could have written something last night after I became superfluous and moved from the living room area to the bar. But I didn't have my notebook with me. Oh well. Probably for the best. I was in such a crappy mood, and I bet that anything I'd have written would have reflected that mood. Unlike the light and breezy stuff I ended up writing after I got home last night.

You can all thank me later, if you'd like.

So I'm in Clarksville at this Hooter's because it's kinda on the way home. Kinda. A couple of hours ago, I was at a friend's house watering dogs and feeding fish and (inadvertently) scaring a cat. Poor kitty.

Then, I went to Famous Dave's for some dinner. And now I'm here. Like I said, kinda on the way home.

Pretty exciting stuff, huh?

And now I'm going to stop writing because BadPickleGirl has called me to see if I want to go hang out by a swimming pool with her.

Duh.

---

Well, that was fun. False (inferred only) advertising though, as she was fully-clothed at all times. So no bikini action. There were also two dogs there, so between my friend's three dogs earlier and these two dogs tonight, I'm pretty much dogged-out.

Plus, my cats are all afraid of me now because I smell like dogs.

Okay, when I was sitting at Famous Dave's this evening, having some yummy catfish tenders and a yummy Newcastle (7327), I noticed this coaster under my glass:

This struck me as being really funny. Because whoever made this up probably thought it was a good slogan which would cause lots of Miller Lite to be sold.

Anyway, I turned over the coaster, and found this:

And this struck me as being even funnier. Because saying Best American-Style Light Lager is kinda like saying swilliest swill or pissiest piss.

Somebody needs to tell these Miller people, who keep bragging about this award, somebody needs to tell them that American-Style Light Lager is NOT a classification.

It's a diagnosis.

It was, semi-recently, suggested to me that I will die alone and unloved. Basically because I'm an asshole who deserves that fate.

And so I, as politely as I could, requested that those words never be said to me again. That would make it twice. There will not be a third time.

Anyway.

It's come to my attention lately, or been brought into focus lately, or whatever, that I probably will die alone, but not because Adolf Hitler hasn't been around to tutor me on being a better person. Rather, I will die alone for the simple reason that I've lived alone, and I will most likely continue to do so.

This is who I am, how I am, why I am the way I am.

There are reasons for things being the way that they are, certainly. But I don't think that those reasons include the universe having a personal grudge against me.

That's pretty fucked up, right there. If I believed that for even a portion of a fraction of a second, well then I might as well just give up now and save everyone the trouble of having to put up with me.

---

I think about timing, and how it determines everything, and how often it ruins everything.

I think about shallowness and pettiness and vanity.

I think about suspicion and mistrust.

I think about my own commitment to an unrealized ideal.

I think about fear.

---

I'm pretty sure that, eventually, I will die alone. But when I do, it will be because I chose that particular fate, at least subconsciously. And so a part of me must want it to end up that way. I can't even begin to imagine what the reason for that might be, but there it is anyway.

---

I'm in a weird mood right now. I'm thinking about becoming a hermit for a while. But I've said that before, and I know that it probably won't happen. Because I still have hope for the future, for some reason.

I have no idea what that reason that might be, either

So I have this super power. Not this one. And not the one that developed after the toxic sludge incident of a few weeks ago. Nope, this particular super power is one that I've had for most, if not all, of my life.

See, I can tell, without a doubt, when I've become superfluous to those around me.

This super power is quite handy. Because the line between unnecessary and unwanted is such a thin one. The slightest push can cause me to cross it. Because of this super power of mine, I can usually manage to bow out before that push becomes necessary. I can save myself a lot of grief, that way. Because nobody ever wants to feel unwanted.

Tonight, I became superfluous at 8:45 or so. And, at 8:46 or so, I bowed out.

Fuck, I had something in my head a few minutes ago. Something that would have fit in quite nicely with this entry. But now I can't find it in my head.

Please bear with me, I'm gong to look inside my head for a few minutes. Maybe I can find its hiding place...

...

Crap, can't find it.

Oh well.

One thing that I wanted to say, though, was that it really sucks sometimes to realize that you're completely unnecessary. And that it especially sucks to realize it when you first wake up in the morning, or when you first walk into a bar, or when your friends first walk into a bar, or when you're noticed and acknowledged out of guilt and/or pity and for no other reason.

Okay, so it pretty much sucks all the time.

But it's still better than being pushed across that line, and going from unneeded to unwanted.

When I woke up, I remembered that they were starting a new beer festival at Rich O's. And that there would be three smoked beers from Schlenkerla on tap at the same time. And that NABC was unveiling a new smoked beer of their own. So I still didn't eat, because there was just no time for stuff like that. I just went straight to Rich O's. I got there at about 7:00, and I got to park in the main lot for a change.

It was about halfway crowded in there. I sat at the bar and ordered a half pint of the new NABC beer. Honestly, I didn't like it even a tiny bit. But I'm going to give it another try before I write an official review.

TallLady and MusicalYuppieDude were sitting on my right side. But they were talking with some people standing on my left side. This made me very uncomfortable, as TallLady's voice had to drill through my skull to reach its intended recipients. That discomfort eventually evolved into a little panic attack. In an attempt to stave off a full-blown attack, I picked up my shit and moved to the kiddie table. Then I went into the restroom to splash some cold water on my face, and when I came back somebody had stolen all of my shit. Luckily, it was just one of the bartenders thinking that I might have left.

So I got my stuff back, ordered a Schlenkerla Weizen (239) and waited an hour or so for the attack to subside. It really sucked. I hadn't had a panic attack since May. But it did eventually subside, and I felt a little better. I felt a lot better when some weirdoes left the living room area and I could move to the loveseat.

Back when I first started coming in to Rich O's, one of the bartenders tried to kill me. Well, last night I tried the Schlenkerla Urbock again, and revised my review:

Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier Urbock

The first time I had this, I wasn't very impressed. Now, four years later, I see that my palate has become sophisticated enough for me to recognize this for what it really is. A truly great smoked beer. Can best be described as a more intense Marzen.

Oh yeah, speaking of very cool, when I came back from the restroom to the scene of the crime, there was a hot girl sitting next to MusicalYuppieDude at the bar. I didn't recognize her at first, but it was TremensGirl, with a sassy new hairstyle. She looked fantastic, and we all told her so, many times.

Let's see, I ended up chasing my half pint of Urbock with a full pint (47). Eventually this one dude left the throne so I moved there. I ordered a Spezial (1572) which was also on tap for the festival.

Various people came and went and talked about various crap. Eventually TremensGirl came and sat at the kiddie table so we could talk about stuff. Like how I need to be more animated.

We seem to have developed this disconcerting habit of talking with our faces just inches apart. In our own little world, whispering secrets to each other. It's really quite nice. As the night went on, I found myself becoming more fascinated by her lips with each passing moment. I mean, they were right there and I couldn't take my eyes off them.

Like I said, quite nice.

When they started kicking us all out of Rich O's, everyone else left to go to some other bar that I can't stand. So I came home and finished my new Orson Scott Card book.

My day started after about three hours of sleep, at the unholy hour of 7:00, when I got up to do some last minute pre-cleaning because VacuumLady was going to be there in the morning. Of course, after I'd showered and done that pre-cleaning, I saw the email telling me that she wouldn't be there until the afternoon.

But by that time I was already committed, and it was too late to try to get any more sleep. So I left. I paid my water bill and got a haircut and dicked around Louisville for a while. Then, at 11:00 I went to The Pub and talked to BikerGirl and waited for NotHideousGirl. I'd promised to buy lunch for the latter. Because I'm nice.

Had a Newcastle (7295) and then another one during lunch. I wasn't very hungry yet, so I didn't eat. Accordingly, I was only going to have a half glass of Newcastle next. But BikerGirl challenged my manhood - or maybe she just wanted to get me drunk - and so I ended up having a second full glass (7315).

After NotHideousGirl went back to work, I went to Red Star to wait for BikerGirl to get off. I'd bought some books at Borders, and so I sat at one of Red Star's outside tables and read part of my new Orson Scott Card book and had a yummy Paulaner Hefeweissbier (392). By this time, I was getting a little hungry, but I figured I'd wait for BikerGirl.

BikerGirl arrived at 1:45 or so, and we had a pleasant little talk and late lunch. I still didn't eat anything, because they fucked my quesadilla order up. But it's not like I was starving. I was more tired than anything else. Once this, my second lunch of the say without eating, was over, I went back to The Pub and had a Diet Coke. Then I came home and took a short nap.