Okay, I'm back now. Heartfelt thanks go out to the zero people who noticed that I was gone. I get tears in my eyes when I think about all zero of you.

Anyway, I was in Covington, KY, which is across the river from Cincinnati and next to Newport. It was for a work thing, a series of meetings that lasted from 8:30 until 5:30 Wednesday. I drove up Tuesday after noon and spent the night.

After I'd checked into the stupid Marriot, I set out on foot in search of food and beverage. I walked from my hotel, at the river's shore, about 18,000 blocks South. All I found were pawn shops and cash advance places. So, not the best part of town, I figured. Next, I shifted a couple of blocks to my left, turned around, and trekked back towards the river. Still, pawn shops and cash advance places, but now with some strip joints thrown in for good measure.

I got back to the stupid Marriot, intending to get in my truck and drive to Newport. I know they have beer there. But, at the hotel, I got to talking to the doorman, and he told me where the touristy section of Covington was.

Remember, back two paragraphs ago, I said that I'd shifted to my left. Well it turns out that I should have shifted to my right. Because to the right was where all of the bars were.

The guy told me it was a two-minute walk. It was more like a zillion years, but I finally made it there. By the time I arrived in the touristy area, I was dying for Newcastle. So I went into the first likely-looking place, called the Cock & Bull.

I'd been hoping to find a Guinness, maybe a Newcastle. I most certainly hadn't dared to hope that I'd find Delirium Tremens, or Unibroue Maudite. Or a bottled beer selection that even MrPopular might envy. It was a very nice place, and I stayed there for hours.

Because I had fish and chips for my late lunch, I was bound by both honor and propriety to have a Newcastle (9367). The glasses were only 16 ounces, but they were unchilled. I was very happy. Even though I thought the fish kinda sucked.

My next beer was a Delirium Tremens (1225), and I spent some time talking to this one dork who wanted Beck's and would settle for nothing else.

Next, I tried something new to me.

Moerlein O.T.R.

(bottle) Clear dark orange. Kind of a weird color. No head to speak of. An aroma of malts and hops that was pretty enticing. Medium mouthfeel. The flavor was extremely good. The hops seemed to be a mixture of the piney kind (which I hate) and the flowery kind (which I love) and there was also a strong malty component to the flavor. Definitely very interesting and balanced and drinkable. I'd love to try this on tap someday. Yummy.

Just one example of my stupidity: I was talking for a couple of hours to this one cute girl about my reason for being there and the upcoming derby and beer and whatever else. It was a good conversation, I will call her EyesGirl, because she had two of them. Anyway, at one point she suggested that we go to some of the other bars in the area. Because I'd told her that I was only in town for one night, she said she wanted to show me a good time.

And not in a hooker way, I don't think. In a I'm a nice girl but I'll be naughty with you way.

So, naturally, I told her that I was seeing somebody. Even though I'm clearly not seeing anyone.

EyesGirl left shortly afterwards. Probably went home to masturbate, the poor thing.

I ended up convincing my boss, in town for the same work thing, to come up to the Cock & Bull and have dinner. I had another Delirium Tremens (1235) and then I talked my boss into giving me a ride back to the stupid Marriot.

Then today I had meetings then I drove home.

I need to see if Rich O's can get the O.T.R. there. I think people would like it, but mostly I'd just like to have it again without having to drive to Covington. It's kind of a cross between Rogue Dead Guy and Three Floyd's Gumballhead.

I've always been pretty good at remembering dates. But, apparently, only if the significance of said date is realized right away.

There's this one date that I really wish I knew. But I don't

I can rattle off every other relevant date without batting an eye. But the most important date? The first relevant date?

At that, I can only guess.

See, I used to think that this all grew as time passed. That there was a reason for it. That I wasn't crazy. This was yet another series of lies that I told myself. So that I'd think that I was more normal than I really was.

But it didn't grow. Instead, my denial and my disbelief - they shrank. They shrank until there came a day when I had to believe, because there was nothing left to do. Occam's Razor definitely applied.

I know that fucking date, when I finally saw the truth. When everything changed inside while the outside remained exactly the same as it had always been. I remember that date. Like it was important or something.

That date was nothing. I'd finally opened my eyes. Whoop-dee fucking doo.

The important date, the one I should know, so that I can celebrate or mourn as dictated by whatever my current mood and circumstances happen to be, all I can do is guess at that date.

I think I'm going to guess September 24th, 2003. That's at least close. It's what you'd call an educated guess.

I've been lying to myself, I'm afraid. I've been lying to myself because I felt, deep down, that there was no way I could deal with the cold hard truth.

Until now, perhaps. As that cold hard truth presses onto my chest and pins me to the ground, I remember that I have surprised myself before. With my resilience. With my strength. Even with my resolve, misplaced though it may be.

The truth.

I constantly seek answers to unasked questions, expired years ago. The answers don't matter anymore. I'm no archaeologist, qualified to poke and dig through the ruins of my own past, hoping to uncover some scrap of knowledge that just might help me in the future. Or the present.

The truth.

I yank and strain at doors, long rusted shut. I tell myself that I have another chance, but for what?

I don't know. Something.

Anything?

But there are no second chances. There are only similarities. So that I can say to myself, If only I can do that one tiny thing differently, everything will be better, this time. Everything will be great, this time. If only I can find out what that one tiny thing is.

The truth.

I have tried to resurrect the dead.

And I've failed. So now I need to focus on the living.

The truth sucks sometimes.

One, I want her to grow up. Another, I want her to learn to close her mouth. Yet another, I want her to learn to close her legs.

Some, I think, should open their minds, and I'd like to see several open their eyes. The eyes thing - that's probably what I'd most like to see happen. I get very tired of seeing people I care about going through life blinded by their own assumptions and prejudices and opinions.

Me?

I want to be able to see the whole person, not just their worst perceived flaw or their best perceived asset.

And I want to have a more consistent memory - too often I forget everything but the most recent encounter. Or I do just the opposite - I ignore everything that's happening right in front of my face and I instead relive past transgressions or affections over and over and over.

And over.

Last night I didn't even get to Rich O's until about 9:00. I think that's better for me. Less time to build up hope, so not as much disappointment. Last night, my late arrival was a godsend.

I think I've said this before. If so, I'm going to say it again. I think that Rich O's is going to become more and more unbearable between now and November. They don't even pretend to be neutral anymore, as the new signage on the front door attests. Now, I certainly don't mind people having opinions, in fact I support it with everything I have. But it's become perfectly clear to me that only one opinion matters at Rich O's. No dissenting opinion may be spoken, lest the speaker be treated to a verbal assault that would make the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket seem like Mr. Rogers.

Anyway.

The place was only about half full, and most of the people there were strangers crammed into the living room area. I sat at the island with UPSDude. WomanRepellant and this one dude who looks like my cousin Robbie were at the bar, but I didn't recognize anyone else.

I had myself a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (501). I talked about random crap with UPSDude. I glared at the strangers in the living room area. I watched the door.

At one point, I think about when I ordered my second Paulaner (518) I texted HatGirl with the incredibly clever and sweet message, "Hi, HatGirl!!!"

I guess it worked, because about ten seconds later HatGirl walked in.

HatGirl!

Yay!

She hadn't got my text message, she and LuckyFucker had already been on their way - probably in the parking lot - when I'd sent it. But I still took the coincidence as proof that great minds thing alike.

LuckyFucker ended up at the kiddie table talking to WomanRepellant, and HatGirl joined me at the island. So I was treated to an uninterrupted hour or so of HatGirl's company. That was very very cool.

Oh yeah, I ended up drinking the last several ounces of HatGirl's Delirium Tremens (1215), because she's going through another lightweight phase.

Yay for free Tremens!

Oh wait, I paid for HatGirl's beer. But still, yay for Tremens!

A few minutes after HatGirl and LuckyFucker left, some utter bullshit happened that put me into a very bad mood, and I left Rich O's. I ended up going to Sluttopia for about 10 seconds, then I came home. What happened next will not be written about.

First, I need to get Wednesday out of the way. Besides it being AlliDay, which is always nice, I went to Rich O's after work to see BadPickleGirl for the first time since right after my Nephew was killed. I had booze for her and that was enough to lure her to see me. So we talked and split a pizza. I had two NABC Cone Smokers (3357) and then she followed me so I could drop my truck off to get its alignment fixed.

One weird thing was that, while I was filling out the little card so I could drop my key in the slot, a little black car pulled into the parking lot. I thought to myself, That looks kinda like Dina's car.

As it turned out, it was exactly like Dina's car, because it was Dina's car. She'd seen my truck and pulled in to say hello. So that was cool.

The next day I don't think anything remotely interesting happened except that I got my truck back.

By Friday night, I'd decided that I wasn't going to go to Rich O's. So of course I went to Rich O's. This has become a very annoying pattern for me. I decide that I'm not going, that I'm going to go someplace different, but then I go because I'm afraid of missing you know who anyone anything. Then, I get in there, and too often lately I find that I'm miserable because of the weirdoes and the fucking loud music and the increasingly belligerent political discussions. But I stay and I watch the door for hours and, more often than not, I leave disappointed. And I vow that, next time, I'll do something different.

But last night was pretty decent. For one thing, it wasn't very crowded at all. Certainly not like a usual Friday night. It was mostly regulars, and we mostly just sat around and babbled about random things.

I'd started out at the kiddie table, where I had two glasses of yummy Delirium Tremens (1209), then when TallLady left I moved to the throne. Most of the night the living room area held myself, MusicalYuppieDude, PlantDude, and PillowDude. At one point PearlGirl came in. She had apparently time-traveled back to the 1960s to buy a dress before coming to Rich O's.

My next beer was a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (484). Then I switched to Diet Coke for a while. I was considering going over to Louisville. AlliGirl had invited me to come see some band I never heard of. I asked MusicalYuppieDude about the band, and he said they're supposed to be pretty good. Plus it would have been nice to see AlliGirl again.

But then LaptopGirl came in and I forgot about wanting to leave. I forget about a lot of things when LaptopGirl is in the room.

I most certainly will not apologize for that.

I babbled a lot. I blame the Tremens I'd had earlier. Plus, she kept asking me questions that seemed to necessitate babbling answers.

Oh yeah, we ended up splitting a glass of Browning's Bourbon Imperial Stout. I already knew that it was yummy, but I think this was LaptopGirl's first time to have it. She said she liked it too.

Once LaptopGirl went home, I briefly thought about heading over to see AlliGirl and the band after all, but in the end I just came home and sat on my swing and did some navel gazing.

Oops.

But I will not take all of the blame for the weirdness. I was asked, after all.

---

It was nice to be asked. I think that was a big step in the right direction. But it would have been much nicer to have been able to answer without restriction.

The thing is, there are no real secrets left anymore. So, I wonder, why do we pretend that there are?

This pretending fools nobody, and it springs a trap from which it may take a long time to escape.

---

The sky is blue. Water is wet. Things are what they are.

When did the truth become a bad thing?

Oh, wait. I know when it happened.

The truth became bad at the exact moment that it became irrelevant.

It's not like I never envisioned this happening.

It's not like I don't, even now, see this coming at me like a speeding car on a late-night road, while I stand frozen. A deer in the headlights, as they say. So transfixed by the pretty lights that I wouldn't be able to turn away even if I wanted to do so.

And I most certainly do not want to turn away. Despite advice from Everyone On Earth.

See, the last time, the last time this happened, I was struck from behind. Unawares. Completely blindsided.

That really sucked, by the way.

The lights are so pretty. I think I'll enjoy them for a while longer. For as long as I can. Until it's too late.

I've been having a problem with the whole risk vs. reward concept lately.

This causes me to do incredibly stupid things. Well, the same stupid thing over and over, actually.

There's the potential for a reward, or I wouldn't do the stupid thing. But that reward seems to have lost some of its specialness lately. Perhaps it's happened a little bit too often. I might have even become a little bit jaded.

But the risk?

The risk hasn't changed at all.

As a result, the reward is no longer worth the risk, and so I should stop being such a fucking dumbass.

---

Another thing I wanted to write about, but which probably isn't worth an entire entry all on its own, is that some people are really annoying me lately.

Specifically, their voices are annoying me. Even the shortest sentences are sometimes enough to give me an Excedrin headache number 15,000,000.

I don't know why I'm so irritated with these voices all of a sudden. These are people that I actually like. Some of these voices belong to people that I would actually fuck. And it's not like I'm annoyed every time they speak. Only at certain times. When I'm in certain moods.

The voices, they cut into my skull and they scramble my brain. That's not good. I prefer my brain over-easy.

So many times lately, I've sat at Rich O's and I've wanted to jump up and scream, "Please, for the love of all that is beautiful and good in this word, please shut up for two seconds!"

But, I don't jump up and scream any such thing. Because I'm trying to be a people person and shit.

---

There's this one chick who has, almost single-handedly (or double-breastedly?), turned me into a breast man. I am reminded of this transformation quite often. I did a comic about it/her/them once:

It's not the size that's attractive to me. Not at all. Definitely not artificial size. I want to make that clear. I am not a fan of store-bought breasts that have no purpose other than making a girl bigger up top.

I realize that things like age and gravity and having kids, these things can make a girl feel less than satisfied with her body. So by all means, get those puppies re-inflated and feel better about yourself.

But try to come out of the surgery looking like a human being.

Size just for the sake of size? I just don't get it.

---

Okay, I think I've rambled on long enough for one night.

Okay, this first picture is part of the front cover of the most recent issue of the Louisville Eccentric Observer newspaper, or LEO for short.

Saturday night, LaptopGirl sat on the sofa at Rich O's, looked at the cover, and excitedly announced that her car was there. And, by inference, so was she. "Right there!" she said. "Behind that white car, just behind the don't walk sign."

Now, I didn't have my glasses on at the time, so I couldn't really see what LaptopGirl was talking about. And, I'll admit, I was skeptical. I mean, what are the odds that she's be driving down that stretch of road right when LEO decided to take a picture?

Once I got home, however, I used my computer to scan and zoom the image. I found all the proof I needed. These next two images show, with advanced zooming technology, that LaptopGirl was right all along. It's definitely her.

It's really her! Right on the front page of the newspaper!

LaptopGirl is famous! It's about time!

But I'm left with a couple of nagging questions.

Why is bigfoot in the car with her, and what in the world is bigfoot doing to that poor chicken?

I keep seeing these little flickers in my brain.

I'm pretty sure that they're not symptoms of a tumor. And they're not quite entry ideas, but I think that someday they might be. The latter, I mean. Maybe, someday, they'll turn into entries. If they can get over their fear of the light. If they can come out and show themselves to me, so that I might do this writing thing that I seem to want to do today.

Or, if I can catch them before they scurry away again.

Cowards!

I've noticed these flickers, these little thoughts, before. I've written about them before.

The thoughts are there, running around inside me, but they flee when I try to capture them. They hide behind trivia and inane bullshit, and they snicker among themselves about how easily they evade me.

Only the weakest among them are ever at risk.

Sometimes I manage to catch one of these lesser thoughts. Then I'll dissect it and expose its innards to the world. And its brethren watch in horror from their hiding places, and they stop their snickering, for a while at least.

I'm in a fairly strange mood tonight. I don't know why. It might have something to do with the bottle of Ommegang Three Philosophers (49) that I've now almost finished. But I don't think that's it. I think it's something else. Something much deeper than alcohol.

I think that maybe I've just taken a good hard look at myself, and maybe I've started to suspect that I'm not as happy as I think I am.

That would really suck. Because I fucking like being happy.

But I've been noticing shit, every now and then.

I'm starting to suspect, if I look at things objectively, I'm starting to suspect that things aren't quite as fantastic as I've been thinking. There seems to be an underlying stress to my life. Just a touch of effort to interactions that should be effortless. I think it's like walking up a very long, very slight, upgrade. You don't really notice that you're putting any extra effort into walking, but your heart beats faster than it should, and your muscles get tired much sooner than they should. My life is kinda like that. It's harder than it seems.

I'm finding myself being extra careful about what I say. I'm finding myself paying extra attention to what I hear. I'm finding myself working hard during those times of my life that should be the easiest and the most enjoyable. Also, I'm sensing that extra effort in those around me, when they talk to me, they seem to be working harder than warranted.

Oooooh!

I just saw another flicker! I'm going to stop writing now, and try to catch the little bugger.

I've often lamented that I do a crappy job of writing when I'm in a good mood. I'll leave it up to the readers to decide for themselves whether my mood is irrelevant to the crappiness of my writing. I happen to think that it's highly relevant.

Good moods lead to crappy writing.

Bad moods lead to not so crappy writing.

Most of the time, anyway. But maybe not all the time.

Like, I was reading through some old stuff today, and I ran across an entry I wrote a little over two years ago. On one of those rare days, back then, in which I found myself in a good mood.

I like this entry. I think I did a good job with it. It's short and to the point.

gamut

You know what I like about my life right now?

I like the fact that, for the first time that I can remember, I seem to have the entire gamut of emotions at my beck and call.

This is really pretty cool, this place that I find myself in. Even though I complain about it what seems like all the fucking time.

Q: How do you know Dave is complaining about something?

A: Because he's awake.

Here's a little challenge for you. Pick an emotion. Give me a minute, and I can be experiencing that emotion.

Some are easier than others, of course. Some I might even call difficult. But not impossible.

A friend of mine asked me today if I ever felt hate. That's actually one of the tough ones for me. But I can do it. I have to reach far back - years and years - into my past, and think about things that I'd rather not think about, but I can do it. If I'm completely honest with myself, then I have to admit that I do hate her for what she did, over and over and over and over and over and over. Without remorse. Without anything that could even be remotely considered as being anything similar to regret. With nothing but pure selfishness. I hate that fucking whore.

Yes, I do hate her. For who she is, and for the coward that she turned me into.

Love, the one emotion that I always figured was impossible for me to feel - that's the one that turned out to be the easiest of all. That's the one that I live with, that's a part of me, that I cannot completely shake even when I want to do so. I try to run from it, and I try to hide from it, and I try to deny that I ever felt it. Feel it. But there's no use running, or hiding, or denying. It always catches up. It always finds me. It always stands right in front of me and does a little dance that always makes me laugh. This is what I feel when I let my mind and my heart relax and stop trying to escape the inescapable. That such a person can exist in this world. It's just so amazing to me. She is just so amazing to me.

I do love her. For who she is, and for the hopeful idiot that she turned me into.

And, between those two emotions, and between those two very different women, I have the full range of emotion available to me.

Like I said, it's pretty cool.

I think it's because when life sucks, I turn away from it, and when I turn away from life I turn toward my writing. But, when I'm happy with my life, I want to experience it, not write about it.

That's my theory, anyway.

Okay, at the top of the picture is the exit ramp from I-265 to Grant Line Road in New Albany. It's a one-lane ramp, but people are in the habit of driving on the right shoulder if they're going to turn right. The people who are going straight or turning left usually get backed up at the stoplight when traffic is heavy, so people use the shoulder to get around those assholes.

I do this myself all the time, usually when I'm going to Rich O's after work. I was doing it last night on the way to Rich O's after Tumbleweed.

So I looked in my rearview mirror and there were two trucks behind me, at about where the 1 is on the picture. There was a newer truck directly behind me, and a shitty truck passing the newer truck on the shoulder.

Problem was, the dillhole in the newer truck was also moving onto the shoulder.

I don't think he actually hit the shitty truck, but he at least nearly ran him off into the ditch. Then both trucks swerved back onto the pavement. Then both trucks swerved in the other direction. Like ShittyTruckDude had decided to repay the favor, and was trying to run the DillHoleDude off the road.

I watched all this in my rearview mirror, then I turned right at the intersection. Both of the other trucks turned right as well. I guess they were about 50 yards behind me, at about where the 2 is, when they both stopped their trucks right in the middle of the road. ShittyTruckDude opened his door and, I'm assuming, loudly told DillHoleDude to have a nice day or something.

By the time I got to the intersection at the bottom of the picture, Both trucks had started moving again. DillHoleDude pulled into the gas station at where the 3 is. I was stuck at a red light, so I turned my head to watch. ShittyTruckDude went by me, turning right at the intersection, then he turned right again into the gas station parking lot.

This was getting good!

By this time, I could see that ShittyTruckDude had a business placard on the door of his truck. Larry's something or other. So I'll call him Larry from now on.

Larry parked his truck directly behind the dillhole, blocking him in. Then they both got out of their trucks and started yelling at each other. It only took a second for them to come to blows. I really couldn't tell who threw the first punch, and I couldn't tell how the fight ended because my light turned green and I had to start moving lest I cause my own road rage incident.

I'm sure that somebody called the cops. They were in an extremely public place.

Also, readers may have been wondering whether that's the haunted Burger King at the bottom of the picture.

Indeed it is.

Remember back when the supercontinent Pangea split, and the flora and fauna of Africa and South America were left to develop and evolve independently?

Well, That's about the same time that my sister Neisha last came into Rich O's. Until last night.

I'd been told, earlier in the week, that both of my sisters were coming to Rich O's, but I very nearly forgot. I guess it was just so unlikely that my brain refused to waste valuable memory space with it. So, I nearly forgot and took off for Nashville Saturday morning.

I'd been thinking about going to Nashville because it's fairly close and I wanted to get away from Rich O's for a night. LaptopGirl had said she wasn't going to be there Saturday night, so it seemed like a perfect opportunity.

But I was late for my truck appointment, so I didn't get its alignment fixed. And then on the way home I remembered about my sisters.

What I ended up doing was talking them to Tumbleweed. This was the first time I'd been in there in a very long time. It will probably be a very long time before I go back. The food just wasn't that good.

After that we went to Rich O's. My sisters got to put several names and nicknames with faces. It was fun. I had an NABC Cone Smoker (3517) and tried to decide what I was going to do after my sisters left. I didn't see any point in staying at Rich O's if LaptopGirl wasn't going to show up.

But what happened was, MusicalYuppieDude and I split a bottle of yummy Malheur 10 (65), and it was so damn yummy that we split another bottle (78). By the time that second bottle was gone, I needed to stick around for a while to sober up. So I had some Diet Cokes and talked with various people about various crap.

Then LaptopGirl emailed me to ask about what she was missing. I asked her to please come. And so that's what she did. Yay!

We sat on the sofa and talked about how she made the front page of a local alternative newspaper. So now she's all famous and shit. I hope it doesn't go to her head.

We split a Guinness, and then she ended up pouring most of her half into my glass (1851).

After LaptopGirtl left, I came home.

Oh yeah! There was a fight when I was on my way to Rich O's!

Let me see if I remember clearly. Just in case I'm ever called as a witness or something. I'll put that in another entry, because I want to have a picture.

I know, I suck. You don't have to remind me. I need to update this thing more often. Even if I only have boring things to write about, I still need to do it.

Thursday was another virtual Friday for me, so I went to Rich O's for some stupid reason. The fucking Thursday weirdoes were there, of course, and they made my life miserable with their existence, of course.

I sat at the kiddie table and had three yummy glasses of Delirium Tremens (1187) and they were yummy. I didn't really talk to anyone except WomanRepellant, and even that was just for a while.

I got really really bored and left once I'd realized that nobody interesting was going to show up. Also, now there are three of the Thursday weirdoes wearing those stupid hats. Before, it had been just the one uberweirdo. But now there are three of them doing it.

So then Friday morning we had us some earthquakes.

When the first one hit, all three of my cats jumped off the bed and hauled ass down the hallway. I woke up and wondered for a second if my cats were really fat enough to cause the house to shake like that. When my mind cleared a little, I thought that a tornado must be barreling toward my house. But when I turned my head and looked out my window, I saw stars in the sky. That's when I figured that it was either an earthquake or a plane crash or something.

The thing about earthquakes is that you don't know how long they're going to last or how strong they're going to get. So I put on some pants in case I had to run outside.

The other thing about earthquakes is that you don't know anything. I mean, it could have been a .01 earthquake right under my house, or it could have been an 11.5 earthquake in St. Louis. I didn't know, and I wanted to know, so once the shaking had stopped I went and checked the USGS site. I was very impressed that they already had information about the quake - it had only been a couple of minutes.

The second earthquake that I felt was at 11:15 or so. I was in my kitchen, and all of my bottles started rattling together, or I might not have even noticed it.

Anyway.

Friday afternoon was fun. I went to Polly's Freeze for lunch. There were 18 million high school kids there, but they arrived right after I did, so I didn't have to wait for my order. So, haha stupid high school kids. Then I got an email from LaptopGirl. Then I went and had the oil changed in my truck, then I bought new tires for my truck. The old tires were 9 years old, so I got my money's worth.

Friday night I got a couple of text messages from TremensGirl. She seemed to want me to be at Rich O's, for some reason. But of course by the time I finally arrived there were people more interesting than me there. Hard to believe, I know. But that's okay, I have enough to worry about, and I'm sure it's all my fault anyway.

I sat at the island and watched the door all night. The place was pretty packed, mostly I think because some dude nobody ever heard of was playing music in the special people section, and so anyone who didn't feel like paying the cover charge had to use whatever space they could find and/or manufacture in the remainder of Rich O's.

So I sat at the island and I had a couple pints of NABC Cone Smoker (3497) and then after LaptopGirl arrived (yay!) we split a Smithwick's (1688) and talked mostly about babies and murder-mystery stuff. I had a brilliant idea for a Rich O's murder-mystery. Maybe someday it will actually happen, but I'll have to write it myself because LaptopGirl doesn't like my idea.

Then when I came home I sat in my garage and had a bottle of Schlenkerla Marzen (3431). It had been raining earlier, or I'd have sat on my swing.

Then today I was supposed to have the wheels realigned on my truck, but I got there too late. Oh well.

Okay, I'm all caught up with this blog thingy now.

Another fucking earthquake!

EVERYBODY PANIC!

This is starting to remind me of my days in Alaska. We'd have two or three of these things a week. I once heard a little kid tell his sister that, "The ground was shivering."

You know, because it was Alaska, and it was cold. I thought it was cute.

Hmmm, this looks to be the fifth one this morning, though only two have been strong enough for me to feel.

Maybe, if this keeps up, I'll get to fullfil my dream of owning beachfront property.

Did anyone else feel that?

It certainly woke my ass up.

Clicking the image takes you to the USGS page.

My email is messed-up tonight. Sometimes I can send, but not usually. I haven't been able to recieve since about 7:00.

I feel like a caveman must have felt.

I think it's only natural, to become frightened at times like this. Times when I'm feeling both alone and lonely. Times when my thoughts do nothing but oscillate between regrets about the past and nervousness about future.

I almost never see the present anymore. It's frustrating as fuck. I get caught up in the perfect moments, mesmerized and hypnotized, overcome by fascination, enthralled and entranced and enchanted, bewitched and bewildered. Spellbound. Possessed.

I ignore everyone and everything and I do nothing but surrender myself to the preposterous joy that has confronted me.

Then, later when the perfect moments pass, I get scared.

It's too much. The moments are too perfect. This cannot last.

I really need to start paying attention to the moments. So that, when they inevitably end, when the duct tape and bailing wire that hold my heart together find that they can no longer do so, when I break, once again, at least I'll have something.

I would look forward to the memories, except that I'm not sure that I'll have any. It's all just a surreal series of beautiful blurs.

I forget where I was going with this.

Oh yeah, something about being frightened that I might once again find myself with nothing. Not even memories, because I'm too busy being happy to remember the miracles even as they happen right in front of me.

Wouldn't it be just about the most fucked up thing ever, if all this came to a crashing halt, and all I had to show for it was a fading smile and a confused look on my face?

I think it's only natural, to become frightened at times like this.

An email conversation I had tonight, paraphrased very slightly:

I already drink, or stuff like this would drive me to do so.

I realized this evening, as I sat at Hooters enjoying a yummy Newcastle (9263), that I was feeling very writey. This, of course, being much different than feeling writerly.

I used to feel writerly, every now and then. Usually when I was feeling particularly sad crazy. But it hardly ever happens anymore. I'm happy now, for the most part. I'd say that I was a happy camper but I haven't been camping in years.

Anyway, I'm going to share a couple of secrets now. I can do this, well, I can do this because of the secrets themselves. They will reveal why I can reveal them.

Does that make sense?

No? Maybe it will in a minute.

Secret number one: When I'm at all vague as to who I'm writing about, it means, 99.99% of the time, that I'm writing about one certain person. Always the same person.

Secret number two: Some people don't read this blog.

See what I did there? I made secret number two rely on secret number one for its meaning.

Because I'm all clever and shit. And I'm betting that my readers are, too.

Anyway, I can't decide if Saturday sucked or if it was good.

I made a comic about it, but I don't really like it. It's not very funny:

See, I'd spent the entire day emailing and texting back and forth with LaptopGirl. About all these tentative plans for Saturday afternoon and Saturday evening and Saturday night. It was all so fantastic and surreal. I was so fucking looking forward to seeing her. But, when she showed up, she chose to sit at the end of the conjoined tables with the dorks and the hot girls, and there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it. Except sit at the other end of the tables. Like a weirdo.

Things got better after that, but I think that my mood was already shot. I seriously didn't know whether to bust a gut laughing or to spontaneously burst into flames.

As it turned out, I did neither of those things. I pretty much stayed in weirdo mode until LaptopGirl went back home.

Anyway, I could list the beers that I had Saturday night, but I seriously doubt that anyone cares.

I got to Rich O's at 4:00 or so. That had been my plan all along. So when SassyGirl called at 3:00 to let me know she and JauntyGirl were back in town, and I told her I could meet her at 4:00, I didn't choose that time just to piss her off. Though I could somehow hear her face fall when I told her that. They had other plans, so they wouldn't be at Rich O's until later.

So, like I said, I got there at 4:00 or so. There were four strangers in the living room, but it looked like they were getting ready to leave, so I sat at the kiddie table and positioned myself to pounce onto the throne. I ordered a small pizza and an NABC Flat Tyre (839).

Once the stranger quartet had left, I moved my shit and sat on the throne. PearlGirl came in with her hot teacher friend, so that was nice of her. Even nicer was that my sister called to let me know that she was on her way to Rich O's. That was a nice surprise.

I used a variation of the word nice three times in that paragraph. I need a new thesaurus.

After my Flat Tyre, I had an NABC Cone Smoker (3397).

Dina and her husband Kenny came in and sat on the sofa, and we talked about various fluff for a while. Then SassyGirl and JauntyGirl came in and squeezed onto the sofa. It was all very nice and pleasant. SassyBoy joined us at one point.

At about 6:00, it was time for Dina and Kenny to be getting ready for bed, so they left. I think this was about when I switched to Diet Coke for a while.

The rest of the evening passed quickly enough. It mostly consisted of SassyGirl giving me shit for not dropping my tentative Saturday plans to see LaptopGirl, and hanging out with them instead. She gave me a lot of shit about that, and I asked her more than once to please stop. See, nobody understands. I would skip my own fucking funeral if there was even a slight chance that I might get to see LaptopGirl instead. I will not apologize for my priorities.

My next beer was a Delirium Tremens (1157), and it was the best-tasting beer I'd had in a long time.

Once SassyGirl and her posse left, I sat around for a few more minutes, then I came home at 9:30 or so.

This is an entry that's been a long time coming, I think.

I want to try to explain a little bit about how my brain works. At least one section of my brain. The part that's in charge of expecting responses to emails, phone calls, and text messages. I suppose it's also in charge of regular letters, too, but this is 2008 and nobody uses those anymore.

That particular part of my brain is flawed, yet predictable. And oddly fascinating in its own strange way. So I'll try to describe how it works.

As I'm not a mental health professional, however, I'll just have to use a couple of examples.

---

About two weeks ago, I emailed LaptopGirl to invite her to a new brewpub. This was on a Tuesday morning. By Tuesday evening, I'd had no response, and so I became certain that she was angry at me for something, or that I'd freaked her out by asking. Too fast and/or too much, maybe.

By Wednesday afternoon, there was still no response, so I became convinced that she'd packed up her shit and moved back to Arizona. Not specifically to get away from me, I didn't think - that was just a bonus.

By Wednesday evening I was certain that it had been because of me.

I remember emailing RockGirl, during that time:

"As her Jeep wasn't at her parents' house today, she has clearly moved back to Arizona. There is no other possible explanation."

By Thursday evening, I was convinced that she was back in Arizona, and that it was because of me, and that I'd never see her again. I'd only see her lawyer when I got the restraining order handed to me.

All day Friday I struggled to locate the pieces of my life from where they'd shattered on the ground. Again.

Friday evening, LaptopGirl came into Rich O's and said that she'd just figured she'd see me in person so she hadn't replied via email.

I was fine after that, but I'd had about 80 hours of torture.

---

A few weeks ago, HatGirl stopped responding to my text messages.

After a couple of days, I became convinced that she was angry at me for some reason. But, I kept trying.

By the time a few more days had passed, I became certain that her back was really bothering her and keeping her bedridden. So I texted her with encouraging messages.

After a few more days without any response, I convinced myself that LuckyFucker, her fiancé, had forbidden her from having any contact with me. That actually made me feel a little better, so I kept trying. Just a text message every day or so.

After a few more days, I became convinced that HatGirl and LuckyFucker had been in some terrible car accident, and that they were lying comatose in a hospital. I began to slowly accept the very obvious fact that I'd never see or hear from HatGirl again, but I still texted her a couple more times, just in case she'd snap out of her vegetative state.

Then last week, I became convinced that HatGirl and LuckyFucker had both died from their accident, and that nobody had thought to even let me know about the funeral. This thought really started to freak me out, so I tried one last time.

And she replied!

Yay!

Said she'd never got any of the dozen or so text messages that I'd sent.

I've been fine after that, but I'd had about three weeks of torture.

---

I guess the important lesson here is that I like it when people reply to my messages. And, when they don't reply, well the reasons that I make up in my head aren't very good ones.

So, please reply.

Thanks!

I'm working from home again today. Burning yet another day of vacation so I don't lose it completely at the end of the month. I'll have 36 hours left to use, after today. I might make it.

Anyway, so last night was a sort of virtual Friday for me, so I went to Rich O's. I got there a little before 9:00, and I was quite dismayed to see that not only were all the Thursday weirdoes still there, they had infested the entire living room area. I said hello to MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl, who were suffering on the sofa, and then I sat at the island and talked to some dude who needs to get a nickname.

I think I was expecting to be sad all night. I think I was even looking forward to it, at least a little bit, as it would be a chance to visit a version of myself that I haven't seen in a long time. Accordingly, I didn't fuck around when it came to my beer selection. I went straight for a bottle of Avery's The Reverend (547). It was yummy as always, and it's actually all I had there last night.

I never did become sad like I'd been expecting. WomanRepellant came and joined me for a while. I traded a couple of emails with LaptopGirl. OddlyFamiliarGirl came and sat with me. The two of us talked for at least two hours about various stuff. I had two Diet Cokes once my beer was gone.

It ended up being a much nicer night than I'd been expecting, so my reunion with my past self never happened.

When I came home I sat on my swing with a yummy Schlenkerla Marzen (3338), sent another email to LaptopGirl and a couple to RockGirl, and then watched the lightning until it started raining. Then I went to bed.

I need a new phrase. One besides, "This is huge!"

I know RockGirl has to be getting sick of me saying that over and over and over and over and over.

Nothing's great or cool or even fantastic anymore. It's all huge.

Like this thing that happened the other night. Or this other thing that happened three times tonight.

Fucking huge.

---

I think that one of my neighbors might be a dick. Not the one directly across the street; she's nice, and she has a hot daughter who sometimes comes over and mows her mom's yard in a bikini. And not the people who live behind me. They seem pretty cool, and they keep to themselves, the way I like it.

The neighbor who might be a dick is the one across the street and one house over.

He had a fucking streetlight put in his driveway.

The light pollution from that thing is ridiculous. Especially at times like tonight, when it's warm but the leaves aren't on the trees yet. I sit on my swing, trying to enjoy the darkness, and that damn light is all I can see.

I'd like to take a pellet gun and shoot the thing out. But I can't because I'd be the prime suspect, now that I've written about it.

---

I owe NotHideousGirl an apology. I will apologize to her in person the next time I see her but, for now, I will apologize here:

Sorry about that. It was only ever barely funny to begin with, and it's certainly not funny anymore. Plus, it sends the absolute wrong message. I will make every effort to never broach the subject again, except when I apologize to you in person, the next time I see you.

---

This weekend SassyGirl is coming to town!

Yay!

As always happens, though, I'm on-call this week. So my weekend could get ruined if some bad enough stuff happens at work. I certainly hope not.

---

I don't know what I'm going to do Saturday night. Rich O's will be closed because of this airshow and fireworks thingy in Louisville. They were open last year for Thunder Over Louisville, so I don't see why they have to close this year. To piss me off, I guess.

---

Huge, I tell you!

---

I wish I'd have let that guy in the Peril series of entries live. I just know I could write a lot of good stuff about what's been happening with that guy for the past year. But how was I supposed to know, back then, that things would turn around this drastically?

---

I'd thought that I might get to go to Las Vegas in May, but now that's doubtful. There were three of us going, and I guess now only one of us gets to go. I hope it's me, but I don't want to get my hopes up too high. Plus, it would feel weird to leave here when such huge fantastic things are happening.

---

People probably don't notice it, but I really am a totally different person now. Here's one example:

Before, my reluctance was selfish, but now it's pretty goddamn noble of me, I think. Me, noble. Who saw that coming?

---

Man, I really want to write something relevant. But, every time I start, I end up stopping myself. Because people might go, Oh shit, Dave's off his rocker again.

The thing is, I never got back on the damn rocker. Everything is as it's been for years, except that now I'm getting a little bit of validation. Not encouragement, I cannot stress that enough. Just simple validation that maybe I wasn't quite as crazy as everyone thought. As even I thought.

There. That's about as relevant as I can allow myself to get.

---

Fucking huge!

The random girls in the previous entry, I met them at this new PJ's Brewhouse in Louisville. Please note that I called it a brewhouse instead of a brewpub. Apparently, there's a difference. Also apparently, calling something a brewhouse means that you don't have to brew beer there.

Something like that.

I heard about this place about a month ago from a guy at work. I knew I wanted to check it out, but I had a tough time getting motivated to go over there. I invited LaptopGirl, but she didn't want to go. I invited WeirdGirl, but she was mad at me. I dropped several hints onto HatGirl Saturday, but she politely ignored them.

So I went by my damn self.

It seemed like a pretty nice place. It seemed even more nice when the bartender decided to give me samples of seven beers on the house. Because I'm all famous and shit.

Anyway, I sampled all of their beers except for a maibock. I don't remember why I didn't sample the maibock.

BJ's Blonde

(draft) Clear golden. Metallic hoppy taste. Served way too cold. I was not expecting to like this, and I didn't. A waste of time.

BJ's Harvest Hefeweizen (2)

(draft) Hazy yellow. Strong aroma of cloves, yeast, and bananas. Maybe some vanilla in there. Flavor was like the aroma, except there seemed to be roasted malt in the thing too. Weird for a hefeweizen, but pretty good.

BJ's Jeremiah Red (5)

(draft) Clear copper color. The aroma and flavor were mild, but malty and fruity. Very smooth and creamy mouthfeel. Good.

BJ's Nutty Brewnette (5)

(draft) Stupid name. Clear dark brown in color. Aroma and flavor of roasted malts and light hops, with a lingering bitter hop finish. Too damn hoppy for a brown ale. Decent is all I can say.

BJ's Piranha Pale Ale (2)

(draft) Clear amber in color. Light hoppy aroma and flavor. Just a slightly bitter finish. Pretty tame. I don't like the style, but this was endurable.

BJ's PM Porter (5)

(draft) Fizzy (?!?!?) dark brown, almost black. Light chocolate aroma. Mouthfeel is watery and creamy. The fizziness is very weird in a porter. Flavor of watery chocolate and a touch of roasted malt. Good flavor, but not very much of it, so this gets only a decent rating.

BJ's Tatonka Stout (21)

(draft) Black in color. Roasted malts dominate the aroma and flavor. A mild alcohol burn finishes. For an alleged imperial stout, this is pretty lame. For a regular stout, it's pretty good. Reminds me of Bell's Kalamazoo Stout. Good.

Clever readers may deduce that I had a full (16 oz.) glass of the Tatonka after my sample was gone.

I ended up being there for about three hours, mainly because of the random girls who kept pestering me. I also had some chicken pot sticker thingies that were very good.

It was fun. LaptopGirl and/or HatGirl and/or WeirdGirl should have come with me. I don't bite. Except when asked.

My plan had been to try to take a quick nap before going back to Rich O's, but I was afraid that I'd fall asleep and not wake up until this morning. So I ended up going back at 7:00 or so.

The place wasn't all that packed, but it was all weirdoes and strangers. Except for CrewCutGirl, I didn't recognize a single customer in the place. The living room area, in particular, was full of weirdoes.

I sat at the kiddie table and had an Ommegang Three Philosophers (24). I emailed LaptopGirl about the weirdoes. I emailed OddlyFamiliarGirl about her Olive Garden discount. I emailed RockGirl about something or other. Mostly I just sat and watched the door.

I had an NABC Community Dark (281) and sipped at it for a couple of hours.

Oh yeah, I was also starving. I was going to eat something, but I'd told LaptopGirl that I'd hold off in case she wanted to split a pizza or something. We were supposed to go listen to karaoke at Sluttopia, and I thought that she might be able to swing by Rich O's first.

At 10:00, I ended up going over to Sluttopia. LaptopGirl met me there. I had a Newcastle (9149) and a sip of LaptopGirl's Sierra Nevada ESB while we endured this one weird origami guy demonstrating his creations.

They didn't even start the karaoke until late, because of some basketball game. So that sucked. And then, once people started singing, they were all fairly terrible.

I tried to talk LaptopGirl into singing, but I didn't press very hard.

LaptopGirl got to stay for a couple of hours. That was really nice. I ended up drinking the last half of her Newcastle (2159). When she had to leave I gave her the wine I'd bought for her today. I hope she enjoys it.

It was a really good night. One of the best.

Except I never did eat anything.

Not funny. Not meant to be funny.

It's been a fun day so far.

First, I woke up at 5:30 in the flipping morning. Now, on a lot of Saturdays, I'll just go ahead and get out of bed at times like that. Because I know that I'll be able to take a nap later. But today, today I knew that I'd be spending a good chunk of the afternoon with HatGirl, so I forced myself to go back to sleep.

I almost overslept and missed my lunch date altogether.

But, I did manage to wake up with enough time to spare. I even arrived early to The Olive Garden. HatGirl, of course, was late. But at least she'd texted me that she would be late.

Lunch was good. I don't think I've been to Olive Garden since MixedSignalGirl and I were together, and I'd definitely never been to this particular one. I ate about half my ravioli and got stuffed. I'm still stuffed even though it's been almost five hours.

After lunch, we went booze shopping. I managed to get everything on my list except for this one wine that MrPopular had requested. Apparently you can't get that particular wine in this country.

But everything else, I got. Even the supposedly hard-to-find wines that LaptopGirl had requested.

It was fun. Food was good. Shopping was fun. HatGirl is charming company. She had this hole in the thigh of her jeans. I used my psychic powers to try to widen the hole, but by then she'd become self-conscious and was covering the hole with her hand.

Speaking of LaptopGirl, on the way to Rich O's to deliver booze to MusicalYuppieDude and MrPopular, I spied LaptopGirl and her son out in front of her house. I stopped and asked if she wanted her wine then and there. She said she'd get it later. A part of me is now wondering if she is now desperately making plans to move, now that it's obvious that I know where she lives.

I stopped at Rich O's and, surprise, both MusicalYuppieDude and MrPopular were there. So I gave the former his booze, and the latter his wine. Then I sat at the island and screwed up:

Paulaner Salvatore

(draft) I ordered this by mistake, as I'd thought I was ordering their hefeweissbier. I could not have been more wrong. I did have a few sips of this, to see if it was as disgusting as all dopplebocks are to me. It was. I only had those few sips.

I also waved at ArtGirl, who was busy doing something artsy in the red room, and then TremensGirl once again graced the state of Indiana with her presence. So I talked to her for a bit before I came home and wrote this entry.

I might not have time to write this. I've got to leave soon, as I'm having lunch with HatGirl then I'm going shopping for booze.

Anyway, the other night LaptopGirl emailed me this thing about a bunch of kids saying what love was. I replied with my own definition of, "Love is when a person's happiness is essential to your own happiness."

I didn't make that up. It's pretty much straight from Robert Heinlein. But I do agree with it.

Moving on to last night, I found myself talking with HatGirl and LaptopGirl about the different types of attraction. Sexual, friendly, protective, comfortable, romantic, things like that. I could probably, with a little more effort, list a dozen more types of attractions but, like I said, I don't have much time right now.

The thought that just jumped into my head was that I need to change my definition of what love is.

I think that love just might be when every possible type of attraction exists at the same time for the same person. That's why it seems so damn overwhelming and confusing.

I should expand on this entry, but I probably won't. It's a little too close to home for me.

I keep having this problem, when I go to write my beer reports. I almost invariably think of one or two things that I shouldn't write about. Usually the most important and/or interesting things. And because I can't write everything that I really want to write, I ended up losing motivation to write anything at all.

Anyway, Thursday night was packed. Standing-room only for much of the night. My theory is that the regular Thursday weirdoes have somehow learned to reproduce themselves. If I'm right about this, then the world is about to become a very scary place.

So for the first hour or so, I stood in the annex area and glared at everyone. I had a new beer:

Maredsous 10

(draft) Hazy bronze. Huge heaping head. Aroma and flavor a little faint for a tripel. I was astonished to discover that this beer has 10% ABV - it's almost undetectable. I like this, but there are many better tripels out there.

FirstGirl was having a beer that looked intriguing, so that's what I had next:

Glazen Toren Saison dErpe-Mere

(draft) Yellow with a slight haze. Very good head and lacing. At first, it seemed a little watery, but then subtle flavors of apple peels and sour apples became evident. Pretty good.

Ommegang Three Philosophers

(draft) Clear dark reddish brown. Huge head that lasted forever. Aroma and flavor both surprisingly understated, with malts and a hint of cherries. Very smooth. Very good.

At one point, I did something I'd never done before at Rich O's. I spilled an entire beer. The damn glass just slipped out of my hand. Or maybe somebody pushed it. Or maybe it jumped. Though it didn't seem depressed to me. Whatever, it fell about six inches onto the island and broke. There was beer everywhere, especially on my pants and shirt. So that was embarrassing.

I made sure to text TremensGirl about what I'd done. I gave her shit once when she spilled a beer, and I felt that it was only fair that she be allowed to return the favor.

Once I'd managed to clean up the mess, I got a new glass of the same beer. It was yet another new beer for me:

Bluegrass Grand Old Fella

(draft) Their Jefferson's Reserve Bourbon Barrel Stout, but aged for three years. The results are a much more intense bourbon aroma and flavor. Still pretty good, but maybe a touch too intense for me. I like the regular version better.

---

Friday night was much better, crowd-wise. Or it at least seemed that way because I got to sit on the loveseat right away. To start the night, I had one of those Glazen Toren Saisons (24) and enjoyed it a lot. I was a little disappointed to find that it had 7.5% ABV in it, because that meant I couldn't drink it all night. I had to pace myself.

So next I had a bottle of Schlenkerla Marzen (3253) which was yummy as always. I suppose I talked to PearlGirl while I sat there, but mostly I think I just watched the door.

My next beer was a bottle of yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout (2509), and I nursed that for at least two hours. I very much prefer it in draft form. I hope it comes back on tap soon. Hint hint.

At 9:30 or so, all the cool stuff started happening. I was outside talking to RockGirl on the phone, telling her about how I'd almost given up on LaptopGirl showing up for the night, and my phone beeped to announce an incoming call. I suppose the dramatic thing would have been if it was LaptopGirl calling. It wasn't, but it was just as good. It was HatGirl! She wanted to know how crowded it was. I lied my ass off fudged the truth and told her there were plenty of seats, and she said she would be there shortly.

About an hour later, I'd not only given up on LaptopGirl, but I was starting to give up on HatGirl as well. But then HatGirl finally arrived.

HatGirl!

Yay!

As had been prearranged, MusicalYuppieDude vacated the loveseat so that HatGirl could sit with me. We talked about various stuff, such as how it had been trillions of years since we'd last seen each other. I took her out front to show her the poster that looks like her.

When we got back to the loveseat, LaptopGirl finally emailed me asking what was going on. I replied that it was all drunken debauchery, as usual. So then LaptopGirl came in. I introduced them. I used their real names, but I had a very strong urge to introduce them to each other as HatGirl and LaptopGirl.

Now, I'd been concerned, after HatGirl had arrived, that if LaptopGirl showed up as well I'd pay all of my attention to LaptopGirl. She has this effect on me where everyone else fades into the background. I didn't want HatGirl to fade into the background. Well, I think I did a pretty good job of talking to both of them. It didn't hurt that I was squeezed into the loveseat between them. It was quite warm, sitting there. And I'm not talking about the temperature.

This was about when I ordered an NABC 15B Porter (372).

Anyway, by the time HatGirl needed to leave, I guess this one dude was being strange, so I walked HatGirl out to her car. We talked for a few minutes in the parking lot, mostly about her upcoming wedding, and we both shivvered the whole time.

When I got back inside, some dork had stolen my seat next to LaptopGirl, so I sat at the kiddie table and talked to her from there. I guess she must have been bored at Rich O's, because she wanted to go to this my bar place nearby. We went there, but we didn't go inside because (a) there was crappy music audible from the parking lot, and (b) they had a cover charge for their stupid DJ, and (c) there was some emergency brewing at LaptopGirl's house, like the baby was waking up or something equally disastrous.

So we went back to Rich O's and talked for a few more minutes until she left. I left a few minutes later, my night complete.

There's this thing, this oath, in the justice system. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, it says.

Well, this latest conversation bit of meddling that I've heard about is one in which the truth was spoken. The truth, but not the whole truth. Not even fucking close to the whole truth.

The whole truth in this situation is something that I alone know. Everyone else is just guessing and extrapolating. And I wish that people would stop speaking their half truths on my behalf. Because it's not doing any good. No good at all. Harm, in fact.

Misinformed appeasement is unfair. It's a lie. It's a delay of the inevitable.

Attracted.

That's the word that's stuck in my head tonight.

What an incredible understatement that is.

I've asked that people stop meddling. I'm now starting to realize that I've been asking for something that cannot be done. So, I'm amending my request.

How about, instead of making shit up when you feel the need to express your opinion, how about just saying, "I don't know. You should ask Dave."

Put the fucking burden on me, where it belongs.

So today, instead of flinging myself off the top of the nearest tall building, I figured that I'd try HatGirl one more time. I was really starting to freak out, and I sent her a message telling her as much.

She responded!

Yay!

We traded a couple of emails. I guess most notable was that she looked at my entry from Monday and called the resemblance "scary."

She did not offer an opinion as to whether her ass is better than the one in the poster.

---

On another front, I keep saying that the tiniest little things can mean all the difference to me. Tonight someone declined an invitation I'd made. But it was still very cool, because I was expecting no answer at all. Even the tiny little act of turning down my invitation will end up being one of the high points of my week.

---

I think I'm going to try to take a day of vacation Friday. I've still got a lot of hours that I need to use or lose by the end of April. I'll most likely have to work several hours on Friday but, as I said last week, I can work from home and I won't have to put on clothes. Plus, having Friday off means that I can go to Rich O's Thursday night.

---

Saturday I go booze shopping. I'm trying to put together a list of stuff to buy, so if you know me you can send me an email and I'll add your choice to my list.

---

Tonight I watched this stupid I Am Legend movie. I also had most of a bottle of Left Hand Snow Bound (112). I say most of a bottle because I managed to backhand the glass onto the floor at one point. Oops.

---

I think that's it for now.

---

Oh, wait. LaptopGirl told me that I'd be sad when I found out who got eliminated from American Idol tonight. She probably thinks that I'd be sad if Ramiele was voted off, so that's going to be my guess.

I was trying to figure something out last night. I lay in my bed, not even attempting to pretend that sleep would be coming anytime soon, but rather just because it seemed to be the thing to do between the hours of midnight and 7:00 AM. My cat Nugget seemed to sense that something was going on. He wouldn't leave me alone.

I lay in my bed. I played sheet monster with Nugget. Every now and then, for a while, I picked up my phone and made sure it was still working. When that got boring, I placed my phone on my chest, and I tried to figure something out. I tried to decide something.

Well, my phone never did ring. That's good for at least two reasons. The first reason is that it probably would have given me a heart attack. The second reason is that I never did figure anything out. I never did decide shit.

I really need to be careful, because this is all seeming very familiar to me. The names may have changed, but the circumstances are the same. It's like a remake of an old movie or something.

I suppose that some would call this irony. Or poetic justice, perhaps.

I, myself, would call it bullshit.

I tell myself that I need to make a choice. One or the other. A or B. I tell myself this even though I know that no choice is possible and that no choice was ever possible. What will happen is what will happen, and I have a feeling that I might be as surprised as anyone. Or maybe not. I mean, I think I know exactly which path I'd take.

But I've been wrong before. At least a couple of times.

Well, that was clear as mud, wasn't it?