Beforehand, I drove.

Specifically, I drove to Indianapolis. See, there's this guitar doohickey that I want. MusicalYuppieDude has been telling me for months that he'll give me one for free, but it's never happened. So I found one on the internet. And today I drove to the closest store that carries them.

Well, I drove to Indianapolis to buy the doohickey, and the stupid store is closed on Sunday. So, I drove back home.

---

Afterwards, I drank a little.

After dinner, I went to the bar at Sam's. I talked briefly with MusicalYuppieDude (should have told him about my trip to Indy) and PhotoDude, then they left and I sat at the bar and had a Blue Moon (817).

Next, I went to Sluttopia and had a Newcastle (10676) before coming home.

---

The beforehand and the afterwards weren't as much fun as the during.

The first time was Friday. I've already mentioned how those particular plans fell apart as quickly as they'd been made. Too many things to do, in too short of a time period. I fell short.

The second time was Saturday night. Those plans never really had a chance to form. It became too late before it ever really became feasible.

Tonight was the third time.

So, I missed her. I wanted to see her.

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to feel those things, or write those things.

The feeling them part is involuntary and constant. May as well ask me to stop breathing.

The part about writing about those things is a little different. But I feel like I gave up a huge chunk of my dignity, a couple of months ago, to give myself the right to express those feelings without them being greeted with shock or outrage.

Anyway, like I said, tonight was the third time.

And, as the saying goes, third time's a charm.

It was really nice.

After I went back to Polly's to get Happy his milkshake, I took a fairly long nap. See, there was a .000427% chance that I'd get to do something fun later, and I wanted to be refreshed.

Then at 7:30 or so I went to Rich O's.

It was pretty crowded, mostly with strangers. I ordered a Marzen (5133) and stood at the end of the bar for a while. TremensGirl was there, in an actual dress. That's why I didn't recognize her at first. Also, StoreGirl and her husband NotBill were there. I hadn't seen them in a very long time.

After a while some dorks left the bar so I went and sat there. I had a little pizza. TremensGirl offered me the throne but I declined. There's a limit to my sociability, and there was this one dipshit on the sofa who is way beyond that limit.

Anyway, these two drunk old women came in and sat at the kiddie table. I'd guess they were between 50 and 150 years old. Hard to tell as they were both made up like prostitutes. As luck would have it, they both immediately started trying to engage me in conversation, so I picked up my shit and moved to the recently-vacated island.

What happened next was that StoreGirl and NotBill came over and joined me, and for some reason they invited the old women over as well.

Grrrr.

So our new "friends" managed to slur out that they'd both just gotten divorced, and that they were looking for a good time. I shivered for about 10 minutes and then managed to shoot off a couple of flares in the form of emails begging for rescue.

No rescue ever came, and I was getting pretty sick of being leaned on and having my arm touched. I was just about to get rude and pick up my shit and move back to the bar, but instead NotBill had a great idea. He and I started telling the old women about all the other great bars around. I think they ended up going to Sluttopia.

Oh yeah, at about the time I ordered my second Marzen (5150) my hot girl sensors overloaded. I looked at the door, and it was ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl! I bounced over and gave her a hug, and looked for the other half of TeamHotness, UnbearablyHotSingleGirl. But she was nowhere to be seen. I hope they're not fighting.

It was still very cool though. I hadn't seen ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl in months. Unfortunately, they had too many people in their party to be able to join StoreGirl and NotBill and me at the island, so they went out front somewhere.

I came home at 10:00, because I'd stopped drinking after that second Marzen. There was still a .000016% chance that I'd get to do something fun later, after all.

Well, that slim chance eventually dwindled to nothing, but I got to have a little emailathon, and that was very nice.

At the end of the night I had another Marzen (5167) out on my swing and I thought happy thoughts.

Lunch was fun, I suppose. It would have been a lot more fun if LuckyFucker hadn't been constantly trying to pick a fight with HatGirl.

There, I said it. Not like it was a secret or anything. I'm a little bit disgusted.

None of my business, though. I just get protective towards people I care about.

---

Meanwhile, my cat Happy is pouting. I brought what was left of my Diet Coke home from Polly's, and it's in the same kind of cup that 'nanner milkshakes come in. So Happy thought I'd brought home a 'nanner milkshake.

I had to remove the lid and let him smell to convince him it was only Diet Coke.

Now he's inconsolable. I think I'll go back to Polly's and get some 'nanner milkshake for him, the poor thing.

Last time, it took years, and I see no reason for things to be any easier this time around. In many ways it's a lot harder, this time. I'm taking it personally, this time.

Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades?

I have no way of knowing how long it will take. I find myself constantly overestimating my strengths, and underestimating the obstacles ahead.

Sometimes I get a little tired and discouraged. Tired of the shock and the pain. Discouraged because, this time, there's no clear end - no clear goal. I just plod along and hope that maybe I'll eventually get to a good place.

Weeks was my initial prediction, and that's been proven to be entirely too optimistic. All I know is that, until that wonderful day when this relentless sobbing stops emanating from deep within me, acting normal will be beyond my abilities.

First, there was a surprise lunch invitation. I'll admit it freely - I was very excited about it. I mean, two days in a row!?! I was truly blessed. Or I would have been truly blessed if those lunch plans hadn't fallen apart as quickly as they had formed.

Second, there was dinner with BadPickleGirl. I really had a feeling that she was going to flake on me. We seemed to be making it much harder than it should have been. Well, sure enough, she cancelled at the last minute.

Third, I figured that I'd at least go over to Louisville, see AlliGirl, and check out CoolHairGirl's purple hair.

But noooooooooooooooooo!

They were having some stupid thing in Louisville, and they were charging a cover just to walk down the stupid street.

So, foiled not once, not twice, but thrice, I ended up just coming home. I ate some pizza. I watched Borat. I sat on my swing. I had a Newcastle (10648) and two Marzens (5116). I glared at my phone a lot.

All in all, It was still better than having my legs knocked out from under me and then being repeatedly kicked in the gut.

Anyway, here's a picture I took while peeing at Sam's this afternoon:

The part about .40¢ wings and .99¢ drafts and nachos and mini-cheeseburgers, that's one of my pet peeves. If you don't know why, then I probably think you're an idiot, just like I think the person who made this sign is an idiot.

But at least they've brought back mini football helemets. Good for them.

...if the Republican ticket wins in November, and we end up with millions of men spanking it whenever the new Vice-President is on TV?

I think that would be weird.

I also think Sarah Palin is hot.

VPILF?

Last night I wore a t-shirt that said I'm blogging this across the front. So, rather than be labeled a liar, I'll go ahead and actually write something.

Let's start with Wednesday, I suppose. There wasn't much to Wednesday. I went to Rich O's. At night. So that was something.

Let's see, I sat at the island and talked with some people. I don't remember who. Oh yeah, MusicalYuppieDude was one of them. I remember because he said there was a crazy guy over at the bar. I looked, but I didn't see him do anything crazy. Maybe he got his prescription refilled or something. Oh, and ExBartender was there too.

I had myself a yummy Schlenkerla Marzen (5047). I sent a million email messages. But mostly I watched the door, more out of habit than because of any actual anticipation.

The place was pretty dead, and they kicked everyone out early, so I came home.

Then yesterday I had a nice day, and it gave me enough confidence to go back to Rich O's last night. Wow, two nights in a row. One might almost think that I'm hanging out at Rich O's again. One would be wrong, but it would be an understandable mistake.

Last night, there was some big change... hope... zombie party going on in the special people section. I didn't go in there. In Rich O's proper, the fucking Thursday weirdoes were in full force. I sat at the island and had a little pizza and a Marzen (5064). Spent most of the time talking to PornAddict and SmooshDude.

And for some reason they kept playing techno music all night. That was messed up.

I was really bored, but I stayed for another Marzen (5081) because I wanted to see what LaptopGirl had done to her hair. I thought it looked really pretty, but of course I'm biased.

Then all the change... hope... zombies left the special people section and came into Rich O's proper looking for brains to eat, and I came home. I sat on my swing and had a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (2636) and it was yummy.

Pretty damn exciting, I know. I've got a five-day weekend and I spend the first two nights sitting bored at Rich O's. Maybe tonight will be more interesting. I'm supposed to go hang out with BadPickleGirl for a while, and maybe go see CoolHairGirl's new purple hair.

Then tomorrow I get to have lunch with HatGirl. I'm obviously very excited about that.

Maybe I'll go out of town tomorrow after lunch. Or maybe not.

Damn, I had this vitriolic entry all typed up. The most honest thing I've written in weeks. Maybe months.

All I had to do was proofread it before I posted it.

But I accidentally deleted it instead of saving it in my draft folder. So now it's gone.

Probably for the best. Possibly. Maybe.

The title of this entry is some fucking spam I just got.

One of the things that always happens, is that my senses get so damn overloaded.

I spend all of my energy just trying to remain conscious. I focus so much on seeing that I forget to actually look. I focus so much on hearing that I forget to actually listen.

It's quite annoying, really.

There have been so many conversations that I've missed. Not because I wasn't there, but because I was so enthralled by the sound of a voice that the actual words became white noise. There's been so much beauty that I've failed to appreciate, not because I didn't see it, but because I was so mesmerized that everything became a blur.

It'll get easier, I keep telling myself.

But what do I know anyway. It could just as easily get worse.

I wish others could see what I see, hear what I hear.

Then maybe they could describe those things to me, once I get out of my daze.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure that lunch was nice today. I wish I could remember.

I was just thinking about the conversation I had with StupidGirl the other night. One of the things we talked about, and I really thought I'd already told her about this, was what happened between me and MixedSignalGirl.

Well, she said that I hadn't told her. So it must have been someone else. Some other girl in some other port, ArtGirl might guess.

Anyway, I told her what happened, not at the very end, but at the very beginning of the very end. When she'd asked demanded the impossible of me, and so instead of taking that ring out of my pocket, I'd stood up and walked away.

"Wow," StupidGirl said. "That must have been really hard."

"Well, it certainly wasn't any fun," I replied. "But it was one of the easiest things I've ever done."

"So you took the easy way out," StupidGirl commented.

Ouch. I'm pretty sure she was trying to be funny, but still, ouch.

Over the years that have passed since that night, people have almost uniformly told me that I did the wrong thing. That I should have done as MixedSignalGirl had demanded requested. That I'd been staring happiness in the face but that I'd been too blind to see.

Wrong.

I knew exactly what I was walking away from. Doing that was hard. What made it easy was knowing that I had no choice.

If I'd done what MixedSignalGirl had asked demanded, I'd have, via that very act, proved myself to be unworthy of her love.

I knew it, and that's why walking away was easy.

I'd walk away again. Even knowing what I now know, I'd walk away.

I forget where I was going with this entry.

Yesterday HatGirl asked me if I was going to some Cabbage Patch auction and, if so, did I want a date.

I told her that a Cabbage Patch auction was probably just about the gayest thing I'd ever heard of, and that even with a hot girl in tow, it would still be too gay. I figured that I'd probably need at least three hot girls with me to counter the gayness. I mean, what if somebody saw me there?

See, I was thinking about the dolls. I was thinking that they were going to auction off Cabbage Patch dolls.

That would be pretty gay, right?

Well I guess it's just a regular auction, and Cabbage Patch is the name of the organization holding the auction. They help kids or something.

I'm still not going.

Wow.

Where the fuck did that that wave come from?

Good thing I was already sitting down.

Just caught myself wondering about something. And, of course, wondering is a bad bad thing for me to be doing.

But still, I'm doing it. I'm wondering. I'm wondering if I'm doing the right thing.

Of course, because I'm wondering, I must also be doubting myself. There must be at least some small part of me that thinks I'm doing the wrong thing.

There must be some miniscule portion of me that thinks I'm an asshole.

So ArtGirl just basically accused me of having a girl in every port.

Hell, I don't even have any ports, so that shows how much she knows.

But seriously, what the fuck?

Not too much going on around here, but I'll do this anyway.

---

Looks like I have no broken bones from when I fell Sunday. Just bruises, and those are fading pretty well. Parts of me that yesterday were a nice grurple color are now merely bluish.

I'm damn sore, though. Especially my arms, which are colored normally.

---

I talked to StupidGirl for a couple of hours last night. Told her that it doesn't look like I'll be coming to Las Vegas until next Spring at least. She's okay with that. Probably because she's got a new boyfriend. Lot of that going around these days. I like StupidGirl. She's really nice. I hope this new guy treats her better than the last guy did. Not that that would be any great feat.

---

Starting Thursday, I've got five days in a row off work. I have absolutely no idea what, if anything, I'll be doing with those five days. Probably nothing, unless this current mood lightens. But I think I'd like to take a little trip somewhere for a night or two. Or maybe even *gasp* go to Rich O's during the night. We'll see.

---

That's it for now.

Unanticipated.
Unwarranted.
Unbelieveable.
---
Unexpected.
Unwelcome.
Unwanted.

Forgot my rock today when I left for work. I feel oddly naked without it. Please note, however, that I'm not actually naked, so neither running to nor fro are necessary.

---

Yesterday I might have screwed myself up. I was getting out of my truck, with my arms full of stuff, when I slipped on a damn dryer sheet that somebody, some terrorist probably, had placed on the floor. My foot went right out from under me. I fell about three feet onto my concrete garage floor, landing on my right hip and left knee and left arm. So yeah, I apparently played an impromptu game of solo Twister on the way down.

This afternoon I get to go get x-rays. My hip, in particular, feels gimpy.

And what really sucked about falling, besides almost dying, was that as I fell I slammed the door of my truck into the door of my Monte Carlo. I'm kind of afraid to look at the latter to assess any damage. I know there was at least some paint transferred.

---

LuckyFucker has a new clam in his aquarium. It looks like a horribly-deformed vagina. It's creepy and erotic at the same time.

I bet I've killed over 1,000 North Koreans since Saturday morning. It's not that I have anything against North Koreans, per se, it's just that in this Crysis game I've been playing, they're the bad guys.

I know this particular game is pirated sold all over the world. I wonder how the average North Korean feels about playing as an American soldier and killing his countrymen.

---

This evening I pretend-married HatGirl and LuckyFucker. It was all very moving and romantic, I thought. HatGirl even cried, and so I even felt very guilty for making HatGirl cry.

Then we went to Red Lobster, and the food was yummy, so everything turned out okay in the end.

---

So I haven't had a drop of alcohol since Friday night. I'm not turning into a Jesus-freak or anything like that. It's just something that I was wondering about. I mean, both of my parents were alcoholics, so it's something I have to watch.

Could I go without beer for two days?

Certainly I could. And did. No problem whatsoever.

Certain recent events have reminded me that people, too often, look for the solutions to life's problems in the bottoms of glasses. Or in hypodermic needles. Or, much more drastically, down the barrel of a gun.

So I needed to prove to myself that I could go without drinking. I can, so that's cool.

Besides, the answer to life's problems doesn't lie in any of those places.

The answer to life's problems lies on the other side of a simple conversation. The other end of an email. It lies in fingertips that touch another person, lips that kiss another person.

It lies everywhere that there's proof that we're not alone in this world.

I had a really bad day today, one of the worst I've had in a long time. And, of course, I can't write a fucking thing about why, except to say that my stupidity played a big part.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow I won't be so stupid.

The first part of Friday night I spent like the last parts of most nights. Sitting out on my swing drinking a beer. A Newcastle (10560) in that particular case. BadPickleGirl and I had agreed to "ponder" hanging out for a while, so I called her, left a voicemail, then glared at my phone for a while. But after an hour or so of that, I got bored and went to Louisville to see AlliGirl.

At The Pub, it wasn't nearly as crowded as I'd been expecting. I sat at the bar and had a Newcastle (10580) and talked to AlliGirl when she wasn't too busy. It was nice to see AlliGirl. It had been weeks.

Then I went over to Hard Rock and, lo and behold, CoolHairGirl was working! That was a very nice surprise. Pretty much the opposite of a nice surprise was that somebody had ralphed all over one of the urinals there. Quite disgusting.

I sat at Hard Rock for an hour or so, drinking a Blue Moon (777) and talking to CoolHairGirl. Hard Rock was incredibly dead. It was me at the bar and like three or four other people scattered amongst the tables.

Oh yeah, at one point when I was out in the street I looked to my left and saw my niece and some of her friends. That was quite cool.

Anyway, I started to feel a little guilty at Hard Rock because CoolHairGirl started cleaning everything in anticipation of closing early. Plus I guess I got a little depressed about the same old stuff that I always get depressed about, so I left Louisville and headed for home.

While I was driving home, I got a text from BadPickleGirl, so I called her and we bullshitted over the phone until I pulled into my garage. So that was nice.

Then I sat on my swing and had most of a bottle of Marzen (4901). Sent an email to her, got no response, got depressed about it, then went to bed at 11:30 or so.

I just had the nicest dream.

Of course I can't say who was in the dream or what the dream was about.

I will say, however, that it was all decidedly G-Rated. It was such a nice dream, in fact, that I'm not even all that upset about waking up right before it might have progressed to PG-13.

Before too long, I'll remember that it was only a dream. Until then, I think I'll smile for a while.

So last night was a frustrating bust. An ongoing email-delaying conspiracy between RIM and/or yahoo.com and/or barenada.com, a conspiracy with the single goal of making my life miserable - well last night it reached that goal.

So this morning, I tried again. Just a quick email to follow-up a conversation we'd had Tuesday night.

The reply that I received is the title of this entry.

You might ask what that means. I know that I certainly asked myself.

"Self," I asked, "What does that mean?"

"Fuck off and die."
Now, if you know me at all, or if you don't know me but you read a lot of my drivel, you know that this was the very first thing I thought of. Sometimes it's the only thing I think of. But not this time.

This time, after gazing out my fourth-story window and realizing that a leap from that height would not bring certain death, I did some more thinking. And I figured that with a message like "Fuck off and die," it's probably best to be as unambiguous as possible. That's not really something you want to have to repeat.

So I did even more thinking, and I came up with other possible meanings for that cryptic email.

"I found your email quite boring, and I will reply with the appropriate effort."
I don't really like this one, because it seems to contradict itself. I mean, if my email was truly boring, then wouldn't nothing be the appropriate level of response?

Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

"I am literally on a set, and there must be quiet, so stop making my phone vibrate."
This is at least plausible, as sets do exist, and they do require quiet, and I can certainly picture her gracing the presence of a set. This is my second-favorite explanation.

"I'm busy, leave me alone."
I think I'm going with this explanation. It's goes straight to the point, but it's still strange, presumably so that I don't forget who it's coming from. There's a little bit of personality displayed in the actual words chosen, and I like that very much.

---

I suppose that I'll eventually find out the truth behind those four strange words. Unless my first instinct was actually the correct one. In that case I guess I should start looking for a taller building.

Four bad capacitors on one of the boards. Cost me $365.98 including trip charge.

There'd better be something good on TV soon, but I'm not holding my breath waiting for that to happen.

So often lately I've found myself questioning this journal. Whether it continues to serve any purpose at all. Whether it's causing any harm. Whether it's outlived its usefulness as my voice, to say those things that I could not or would not say out loud.

I feel like I could write pages and pages, if only I were the sole reader. Or if only I'd been smarter, back when I started, and kept myself anonymous.

There are so many things that have occupied my mind and my heart. I've been destroyed all over again. I'm struggling to be reborn all over again. I'm infinitely happy and infinitely sad at the same time. And yet, I've barely brushed the surface here. Sometimes I think that even those light touches upon the truth are too much.

Other times, other times I get a little pissed. This is supposed to be my outlet, not anyone else's entertainment. I should write the whole truth, and if people don't like it, they can stop reading.

But I don't feel like that very often these days. This journal isn't about me, not like it used to be, and I know it. I'm unimportant, and I know it. Irrelevant, and I know it.

I really feel like I'm writing on inertia these days. Writing because it's what I've always done. Or writing because it's expected of me. Or writing to convince people that I'm okay, somewhat normal. But what I'm not doing is writing because I want to write or because I need to write. That want and that need, they definitely exist, but to satisfy them I'd have to stop censoring myself. And I just can't bring myself to do that.

The truth risks too much. By censoring myself I only risk my own sanity.

Kind of a dull day so far. I'm working from home today because I'm waiting for the TV repairman to arrive. It'll be nice to have a working TV in my living room again. That flashing green light is pretty and all, but it doesn't have much of a plot, and the suspense is non-existent.

Besides getting a bunch of actual work done (no distractions) I've removed every cable from every A/V component in my entertainment center, just so I could get back there and be able to push my TV away from the wall. It was all overdue for a recabling anyway. A couple of the components are broken, and some of them I don't use anymore. So I'll take this opportunity to straighten everything out.

I never said this would be an interesting entry.

I just said no to HatGirl.

Let me rephrase that.

I just fucking said no to HatGirl.

It was just for a little favor, but it was one that I couldn't do.

I'm a dick. I never thought I'd ever say no to HatGirl for anything.

Maybe next I'll go out and step on baby ducks or something.

I thought of one possible new nickname. Or maybe it's more of a theme than a nickname. But she won't like it, I bet.

Today was kinda boring, until 1:00 or so, when a series of fortunate events found me having lunch with her at some hippie place in Louisville.

It was pretty weird, even for a hippie place, because instead of sitars and chanting, the music was things like Queen and Led Zepellin.

I think I did a pretty good job. Keeping my eyes in their sockets has become almost second-nature for me, and holding my jaw in a less-than-agape position is something I've been working on. There's still room for improvement there, I think.

I like being perfectly happy, even when it's only for a little while.

It's nice.

The first and second times, I described here. The third time was last night.

I found myself locked out of my house. Again.

Because keys to my house keep disappearing, I've been back down to a single key again for quite a while. I think my cat Nugget eats the keys. But it's one key for one person, so it's usually okay.

But yesterday was my cleaning day, so I took my key off my keychain and left it in its usual hiding place so VacuumLady could get into the house.

Then, when I got home, I retrieved the key from it's hiding place, let myself in, and sat the key on the washing machine.

Several hours later, I went to the store, and when I came home I realized that I'd never put that key back on my keychain.

I'd done it again.

Fuck!

My sledge hammer was still there in my garage. So I knew I could get into my house. I didn't have to worry about sleeping in my truck.

But for some reason I decided to check all of the outside doors and see if, by some miracle, any of them were unlocked.

The second door I tried - the door from my living room to my deck - was unlocked.

Yay!

Except that I wonder how long it's been unlocked. I can't remember the last time I used that door. Several days ago at least.

woohoo!

woohoo!

I'm pretty sure that, should my phone be somehow situated on the far side of the Moon, and myself at the bottom of some deep well or cave here on Earth, I'm pretty sure that I'd still manage to get to it before it could woohoo a third time.

So taking a nap, with my phone not even two feet from my side?

No problem at all. I could do that in my sleep. And I often do.

The strange thing is, my phone checks for new email every 20 minutes. This is hard-wired at the factory or something. I have certainly been unable to figure out how to change that setting.

So how, I wonder, how does it sometimes manage to announce a half-dozen emails in the space of 15 minutes?

It's a mystery, I tell you.

Eventually, of course, I gave up on my nap. Too many woohoos. Too many occasions to pry open my eyes and fumble a one-thumbed reply. Too many protests from my cat Nugget, wondering no doubt why he once again picked my left shoulder on which to sleep.

I'm not complaining. The emails are coming from her, after all.

But as soon as I arose from my couch, as soon as I cleared the fog from my head, the emails stopped. The woohoos stopped.

Okay, so maybe I'm complaining just a little.

I mentioned that my TV is broken. That's not entirely true. Only parts of it are broken. The parts that cause it to display moving pictures and emit sounds synchronized with those pictures.

There's a little green light on the front of the thing. That light's been flashing since Saturday morning. So that light works just fine, thank you very much. And there may be other, more subtle components that also remain unbroken.

Meanwhile, I've got my diminutive 36" TV down in the basement. So when I absolutely have to watch something on TV, I can just go down there.

And sit in my basement with my technology like a damn Morlock. Hasn't happened yet because I hardly ever watch TV in the Summer.

I guess LaptopDad thinks the problem is likely a bulb. He's probably right, but those bulbs are expensive and I don't want to spend that kind of money unless I know for sure that it will allow the TV to be a TV again. Instead of what it is now, which is a 600-lb, $3500, flashing green light.

So I called a TV repair shop today. They'll be out on Wednesday to diagnose the problem, unless I cancel on them.

I need to try a couple more things. I'll unplug it from the wall for two minutes, cross my fingers, and then plug it back in. My cable company will be so proud - that's exactly the advice they give me every time I complain that my cable modem isn't working.

My next step might be to find myself a line conditioner. I think I can get a good enough one for around $200. And I've needed one for quite a while anyway.

If I have the repair guy come out, he'll charge me $95 just for showing up, but at least after he's done I'll know what's wrong and how much money I'll need to throw at the problem to make it go away.

I had such a nice dream.

It bothers me that I can't write about my dream. Because it wasn't a dream at all.

I had such a nice evening.

So most of my plans fell way short of fruition.

I didn't take my cousin his memorial shirt.

I didn't stop at HH Gregg to inquire about a TV repairman.

And I didn't even get to pretend-marry HatGirl and LuckyFucker as the latter, I believe, chose this opportunity to pretend to have cold feet. Maybe next week, I'm told.

But the most important thing, I did get done. I got LaptopGirl's memorial t-shirt from my sister, and then I delivered it.

Any day wherein I get to see LaptopGirl is a damn good day as far as I'm concerned. Even though her son was eating pretzels and it made me really crave pretzels.

Oh yeah, another thing I didn't do was have dinner at the place where NotHideousGirl works. Nor did I, as I'd halfway planned later in the afternoon, make it to where AlliGirl works. Instead, I went to this Sam's place that I'd never been to before.

While there, I had a couple glasses of heterosexual Blue Moon (761) and some blackened steak tip thingies that were surprisingly good.

On the way home I bought a bag of pretzels. They were yummy.

Never did hear back from AlliGirl about her birthday party. I guess I'd be annoyed by that if I didn't already have a gazillion other things on my mind.

I spent Saturday night as I'd spent Friday night, at home on my swing. I did make one brief trip down to see what all the damn sirens were for. There were sirens wailing nonstop for at least an hour. I went down and asked this girl at the gas station what had been going on. She said she saw a million fire trucks go by. It must have been a pretty big fire, to need a million fire trucks.

All of the local dogs were still howling when I went to bed at 12:00 or so

Let's see, I had my last two bottles of Moerlein OTR (262), even the bottle I'd been saving for MrPopular - it just jumped down my throat before I could stop it. Not that I really wanted to stop it. And so now I'll definitely have to go back to Covington. I should have gone yesterday. I can't go this coming weekend because I'm on-call for work.

I had a couple Newcastles (10444). I drunk-texted BadPickleGirl and she actually responded for once. I had a few email conversations. In one, I got accused of what I think is a class III misdemeanor, and that conversation was the highlight of my week.

I got to go to sleep in a good mood. It's been a while since that happened.

---

Today it seems like I've got a million things to do, but I can't think of what they all are.

I know that I'm going to dinner, probably where NotHideousGirl works. I think that, either right before or right after dinner, I'm pretending to marry HatGirl and LuckyFucker. I should probably call HatGirl to make sure we're still on for that.

Hmmm, I know that I've got to get LaptopGirl's memorial shirt from my sister.

Oh yeah, I've also got to take my cousin Jeff his memorial shirt.

I guess I should stop at the place where I bought my TV and see about getting a repairman out to look at it. I'm afraid that it's going to cost a million dollars, but it's got to be done. Can't really have a 65" TV that doesn't work, can I?

A long time ago, I was in a conversation. Actually in it, as the words being said were directed at me and me alone. I remember thinking just how ridiculous they were, those words that I was hearing. Words of inadequacy and low self-esteem, from the lips of the most wonderful person I'd ever known.

I tried to help, back then. I said what I imagined she wanted to hear. Encouraging and soothing words that also happened to be completely true words. I tried to help, but I failed.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

More recently, there was another conversation. But this time I wasn't in it. I just happened to be in the room, a bicycle's superfluous third wheel. I heard the same words, from those same beautiful lips, and though I cringed and laughed inside at the ridiculousness of what I was hearing, I said nothing. It wasn't my place to say anything. It wasn't my conversation to join.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

Then, a few days ago, I found myself reading words of inadequacy and low self-esteem. Words typed to me in an email by the beautiful hands of she who is still most wonderful person I've ever met. I replied. Once again, I replied. But I remembered the first time, when I'd failed, and so this time I pussed-out. I replied with a stupid platitude that probably did more harm than good.

Perhaps I should have screamed.

Last night I didn't do much of anything. Sat on my swing and traded some emails back and forth for a while, but then they stopped. I had a bottle of Stone Smoked Porter (542) and then a bottle of Moerlein OTR (238).

I'm almost out of the OTR, and I'd thought about going back to Covington today and picking up a case or so while I'm there. But I probably won't go, there's no point. And besides, AlliGirl's traveling birthday party is tonight, I think. So perhaps I'll head over to Louisville and try to run into her.

Or maybe I'll just stay home again.

Weeks.

That was the prediction I made, weeks ago. Now I'm starting to suspect that my prediction was just incredibly optimistic. Weird, for me to be too optimistic, I think.

Glared at my fucking phone all night. Nothing.

So I went to bed, trusting that it would woo-hoo should the need arise.

Well, at 1:47, finally, I got an email. Not that I knew anything about it until this morning.

Because my phone didn't woo-hoo.

The cursed thing wasn't even blinking, when I finally got my lazy ass out of bed at 8:30.

I don't know what happened, but if I can't trust the woo-hoo, then what can I trust?

I wrote in an email, earlier tonight, to a girl who's going to get a nickname before too long if she keeps being nice, I wrote that I have a zillion blog entries to write.

Perhaps that wasn't quite true.

What I have, instead, are a zillion titles, or a zillion topic sentences.

Actual full-length entries just might be beyond my capabilities right now. That's why I've been doing nothing but snippets and reposts and boring crap like that.

And this entry, I suppose, falls somewhere in the middle.

Yep, another damn repost. And you thought I was beyond this sort of thing.

Well, I most certainly was not.

Anyway, I like this entry, from almost two years ago.

the ghost of friendship past

There is nothing to see.

There is nothing to hear.

It is, as it always is, much more subtle than those glaring things would be.

A chill runs down my spine, and then it takes the seat next to me.

And, somehow, it warms me.

"Did you miss me?" she asks.

I take a long drag from my cigarette. I hold it for a long time. I let it out ever so slowly.

This is a game, a game that we always play.

She asks me the question, and she waits for an answer even though she knows the answer; even though I've answered the same way each and every time.

I take a sip of my beer. I swirl it around it my mouth. I savor it.

She's waited long enough.

"Only when I breathe," I say.

I dare not look at her. I need not look at her. I know what she's doing.

She's smiling.

She smiles, like she always does.

Then she frowns, like she always does.

She doesn't know how to respond.

She's silent.

I win again.

---

Wonderful eternities pass.

---

"This was nice," she says.

"I think so too," I reply.

"I'm so glad you were here," she says.

My eyes roll back. I recognize this, another game that we play.

"Where else would I be?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

She ignores my question.

She is uncomfortable, unsure, insecure.

"I might be back in a couple of days," she offers.

"I'll be here," I say, just like I always say.

"I don't know exactly when I'll be back," she says.

I take a long drag from my cigarette. I hold it for a long time.

I take a sip from my beer. I swirl it around in my mouth. I savor it.

"I'll wait for you," I say. "As long at it takes."

She wins again.

I thought of this awesome thing to write, but then I remembered that people read what I write. So, I might still write it, but not here.

---

I also thought of something awesome to say on my death bed. And of course I can't write that because I'm saving it for when I'm actually on my death bed.

Like in 500 years or so.

---

I'm counting on medical technology to irrelify all of my current stupidity.

It could happen.

---

I made that word up. I like it, though.

---

Did I ever mention that I like hot girls?

Well, I do.

---

I still haven't had any of the 08.08.08 beer. Because I might be able to talk BadPickleGirl into trying it with me. Tonight, I had myself some yummy Moerlein OTR (216).

---

Speaking of OTR, I need to remember to take a bottle to work, so that later I can drop it off for MrPopular.

---

Speaking of BadPickleGirl, she just complained about getting just one MySpace message, from me, in a week. I myself usually only get messages from Jack Shit.

She got a message from me, I get messages from Jack Shit.

She wins, hands down.

---

Because, no matter what certain people might think, I'm much better than Jack Shit.

---

Damn, it's only 11:04, and I'm out of material.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.

Like right now.

The brain doesn't control the heart. Far too often, it's the other way around.

---

Today I'm a little bit irritated with what I'll call foul-weather friends.

---

Tomorrow is payday! Woohoo!

I think I want to get out of town again.

---

Sunday I'm pretend-marrying HatGirl and LuckyFucker.

This guy at work thinks I should get myself ordained on the internet and then be really marrying them when they think I'm only pretending.

I think that would be both a very funny and a very mean thing to do.

---

I'm not mean.

---

I'd planned on taking lunch today, but I couldn't get away from this stupid system restore in time. Crap!

---

Entries like this, composed of nothing but little snippets - they're a lot like Twitter, aren't they?

---

I totally forgot, but I've got two bottles of the new Vertical Epic 08.08.08 in my fridge. I need to have one of them so I can review it.

Kinda one of those nights where all the stuff I want to write keeps getting censored before it gets even halfway out of my brain, way before it gets to my fingers.

It's very frustrating, having so many thoughts but having to somehow keep them straight in my head because I'm not allowed to write them here except in watered-down form.

One of the things I was thinking earlier today was that I'm not stupid. That I know exactly what this means to me, to us. I see what's happening, right now, in the unblinking LED of my phone. I know what's happening, it's just that I choose to pretend otherwise in an effort to protect what's left of myself.

I'm a great fucking pretender.

Just some stupid things to change the subject.

---

Today is Wednesday, formerly also known as AlliDay. But now it's AlliLessDay.

AlliLessDay sucks.

---

Today I've spent most of my time striving to shift my anger back to where it belongs - to myself. I'm the one who did the stupid things for the stupid reason.

Who cares that I didn't know it was stupid at the time?

It's certainly not her fault. It's all mine.

---

I had Skyline for lunch today. I think they must have laced it with sleeping pills. I can't remember ever being so tired, except maybe last night at 8:00 or so.

---

HatGirl wants me to pretend to be a preacher and pretend to marry her and LuckyFucker. That might be fun.

---

Seriously, Miss. Don't come to the thing. Come and see me, that's fine. But if you're coming to the thing, then I won't be there. Please realize what a monumentally stupid idea you coming to the thing is.

---

I guess that's it for now.

Opening that bottle of The Reverend now.

Looks like my email is down for a while, and the website itself seems kinda fucked.

Anyway, If you need to get in touch with me, you'd better call or text.

I'll update this when my email is fixed.

But don't hold your breath, because I don't even know what's wrong yet.

UPDATE 8:07: Seems to be working now. At least for the important people.

I think I'll go ahead and write this now, Monday evening. So I can still use the present tense. Using the past tense is going to suck. There's still a chance that this entry will go to waste. I would love to waste this entry. He will think it's hilarious, that I put all this effort into fiction.

My friend WomanRepellant is in the hospital. That's why he didn't call me Saturday morning like we'd arranged. He was in the hospital then, and he's in the hospital now, And he will never leave the hospital, except in a bag.

Because, you see, he is dying.

He. Is. Dying.

Present tense. That's important.

Don't even bother asking me why he's in the hospital. I won't tell you. It's probably none of your business, and I want to respect what privacy he has left regarding all this.

I went there today, to the hospital. I wasn't going to go, but LaptopGirl talked me into it. She was right, of course, but I still shouldn't have gone. Not as far as I went. Not all the way into that room.

I stood outside that room for what seemed like hours. I could see, through the window, some old man on the bed, his face turned away from the hallway in which I stood. Unconscious, thankfully. I wish I would have been.

It wasn't until I actually steeled myself enough to go into the room, and I saw his face, it wasn't until then that I was able to recognize that the old man dying in that bed was my friend. Up until that point, I could kinda pretend to myself that it was all some horrible mistake.

Is my friend. Fuck.

And now that is going to be the last image I have of him. Not sitting at the bar at Sluttopia a couple of weeks ago, laughing about something or other. Not any of the countless times we sat together at Rich O's and made fun of weirdoes and leered at pretty girls. Nope, as my last image of my friend I get to have him on his death bed.

So, I wanted to tell a little story. The story of how he got his nickname.

See, before the nickname WomanRepellant was chosen, I'd been having a very tough time coming up with a good nickname for him. I mean, he was rapidly becoming one of my best friends, but nothing I tried seemed right for him. I tried stupid nicknames like WhiteHairDude and a few others, but none of them worked. None of them fit.

Then, one day in August 2005, I was sitting at Rich O's talking with HatGirl. I'd only known HatGirl for a couple of weeks at that time. I didn't even know she had a boyfriend. I had already developed a major crush on her, and being able to sit and talk with her that day after work was a very pleasant surprise.

I wrote this, back then.

I was really having a hard time keeping from jumping into HatGirl's eyes and swimming around, but after a while this dude showed up and sat with us and HatGirl left pretty much immediately. Just a coincidence I'm sure. Not.

He thinks it's a very funny nickname. Much better than the ones I've given other people.

Present tense.

Had a quick meal with HatGirl this evening, after I left the hospital. We talked about our friend. She remembers that day as well. Funny how that one brief moment has forever tied the three of us together.

Also on the way home I bought a bottle of Avery The Reverend. It's one of his favorite beers, and one of mine as well. I'll save it. I'll save it until the present tense is no longer appropriate and then I'll pour two glasses, and then my friend WomanRepellant and I will drink it together. And raise a few toasts to the pretty girls.

Future tense. Even better.

Yesterday was the memorial for my nephew and his friends. Today was the anniversary of the accident. I guess I don't have a lot to say about that. Maybe it's all been said, or maybe I just don't have it in me.

But I'm so proud of my sister. Both of my sisters.

---

Today I stood in a horrible place, outside a horrible room, and I talked to a beautiful girl. And she was almost enough to make me forget where I was, and why I was there.

NormalGirl and I may have fizzled before we had a chance to catch fire, and we may never spark again. But, damn, it was nice to see her. To be distracted for a little while.

---

I've spent dozens, maybe hundreds of hours sitting on my swing and glaring at my phone. Trying to will it to ring. Tonight, I sat on my swing and willed my phone to stay silent.

The Cock & Bull was even more crowded that it had been earlier. I remembered that I'd never been in the place on a weekend, and I began to fear that they might have a stupid live band. That would have sucked.

I sat at the bar, ordered a bottle of OTR (72), and was almost immediately molested by some girl sitting next to me. I have never been pawed like that in my life - at least not while remaining fully-clothed. So, that was weird.

The emails and the text messages and the phone calls continued, and I continued to be amazed that my battery was lasting as well as it was. I guess I ended up spending about 1/2 of my time inside sitting at the bar getting molested, and the rest of the time I was outside talking on the phone.

WeirdGirl called just to say she misses me. Awww.

Here's a bit of advice to you women out there. If you ever find yourself needing to break through any resistance I might have, just lick my ear. Works every time.

Anyway, I ended up having three more OTRs (108). The bartender who looks like AlliGirl told me that they sometimes get OTR on tap. So I gave her my number so she could call me the next time that happens. I will definitely make the drive up there again.

I also had a glass of yummy Delirium Tremens (1404) so I could raise a toast to a friend of mine who's having a tough time these days.

At midnight or so, I somehow found some vestige of resolve, and I left GropingGirl with her friends. I walked down to the conveniently located White Castle, had some cheeseburgers, then went back to the hotel.

Then Sunday morning I drove home. It was nice to get away, if only for one night.

You know what's worse than screams?

He stays down there almost all of the time lately. Down in the dungeon of my mind. The doors are not locked. He's free to come and go as he pleases. But he seems to prefer it down there. Or, at least, he prefers the darkness to the light.

His screams were so loud. They cut straight through me.

I feel for him. I really do. After all, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. Faced with that which neither of us could survive alone, the two of us together somehow pulled through. An unbeatable team bound, for a while at least, by parallel goals.

To endure. To live. To persevere. To exist.

To wait.

His screams were so piercing, but at least they showed strength. A will to keep trying, to keep fighting. His screams reminded me of those long-ago days and nights when we screamed together in horrible harmony.

You know what's worse than screams?

All I hear now is soft sobbing. And it keeps getting softer.

The Cock & Bull was pretty crowded. Much more than it had been in April. I guess warm weather will do that to bars. Except Rich O's, for some reason.

My plan had been to just sit at the bar and drown my sorrows all night. I got a decent start, with a couple bottles of yummy Moerlein OTR (60), but by the time those were gone it was only 6:00 or so, and I recognized that I should probably go to some other places.

The first other place I went to was the Hofbrauhaus. I was there for about 1.7 seconds. There was extremely LOUD POLKA MUSIC and there was also not a single empty seat in the house - not even at the bar.

So I walked down the hill, and over the floodwall, to the Beer Sellar barge. While I was walking there, the stupid Sun came out from the clouds, and the weather went from very pleasant to unbearably fucking hot and humid. Plus, the stupid Beer Sellar didn't seem to have any air conditioning. Just a big fan that did nothing but stir the humid air around, so it felt like I was going swimming.

I was sweating like the proverbial whore in church.

I had myself a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (567) and then some Diet Cokes while I tried to acclimate myself to the humidity. Seriously, the place made me long for the old days I spent in New Orleans. This place was New Orleans with twice the humidity but thankfully none of the smell.

After my third Diet Coke or so, I realized that it was stupid to be there, so I drove back to the hotel, and then I walked back to the Cock & Bull.

My phone keeps ringing. I'll finish this later.

My original plan, such at it was, had been to leave town after work Friday. I think it was Tuesday or Wednesday that I decided that I really needed to get away for a day or two. I needed to get away and, more importantly, other people needed me to be away.

But then, Thursday night, I talked to WomanRepellant. He was having some trouble with his computer, and we arranged that he'd call me Saturday morning so I could come and take a look at it.

So that kept me local for Friday night, and I'm glad that it did, because part two of Friday night was fantastic.

Well Saturday morning came and Saturday morning went without a call from my friend. He'd had a photo shoot scheduled for that morning, and he was supposed to call me at 10:00 or so when it was over. I tried to call him at 11:30. The phone just rang and rang. Change of plans, I figured.

So I found myself free to leave, and even eager to leave, but I didn't have a destination in mind. I chose Covington on a whim, more or less. I'd been there in the Spring and enjoyed it. I guess some deep recess of my brain might have thought that I might run into EyesGirl again. And I definitely knew I'd be able to have some Moerlein OTR. So, Covington it was.

The drive up was uneventful. I'd been hoping for some email or telephone companionship, but I think I screwed that up back in July. Oops.

After I'd arrived, and checked into a hotel room that was much more expensive than I'd hoped, about fifty metric butt-tons of drama ensued back home. I basically spent the rest of the day and night talking or typing into my Blackberry, trying to either ease or repair or at least keep up with various drama. So that was the context behind everything else I did Saturday night.

My hotel was conveniently located with a Skyline Chili across one street and a White Castle across another. It was also within walking distance of the tourist section of Covington. So, after a quick meal at Skyline, I walked up to the Cock & Bull bar. I'd gone there in April, so I supposed it was my Official Covington Bar or something.

And now I guess I'll have to continue this entry later.

I imagine people coming to this blog today, the ones who know me personally, and they're asking me the unspoken question, "Dave, what are you writing about all the drama from yesterday?"

And my silent response is, "Which drama? There were two distinct instances. Doesn't matter though, because I'm not writing shit until things settle. Maybe not even then."

So there.

Anyway, I'm back home from Covington. More on that later.

Once there was this guy. He really liked this girl, and he invited this girl do to everything with him. I mean everything.

Also, there was this other guy and this other girl. They'd been married for twenty-five years.

The moral of this story is that somewhere, between taking a shit and going on a cruise, there is a sweet spot. One at which invitations are perfectly acceptable and perhaps even expected. Maybe even welcomed.

But I'll be damned if I have any idea what that sweet spot might me. It's there somewhere, though.

Anyway, I think I'm going to Covington now. By myself.

A few minutes later I was feeling a zillion times better.

I was sitting in LaptopGirl's dining room (see the comic two entries ago), drinking a skunked beer, and finally getting to see LaptopGirl. It had been one day short of five weeks since I'd last seen her, a time period also known as an asstillion lifetimes.

I will concede that it should have been stressful for me. But, compared to the discussions going on at Rich O's, it wasn't stressful at all. Plus it was just a huge relief to get to see LaptopGirl again. It was all so non-stressful, in fact, that I nearly fell asleep.

The skunked beer I had? It was a new beer for me.

Molson Golden

(bottle) Clear fizzy yellow. Thin head that hung in there pretty well. The aroma was of armpits and feet - it was skunked. Mouthfeel was thin. No flavor to speak of, though there was a hoppy sharpness when it first entered the mouth. No detectable finish except a coating skunkiness. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

BigWheelGirl was there also, and she and LaptopGirl and I hung out and talked for a couple of hours. At one point LaptopGirl wanted to go to Rich O's. BigWheelGirl didn't want to go, and I already had everything I needed right there, so we didn't go.

At one point I went out to my car and got a bottle of good beer. LaptopGirl and I split a bottle of Schlenkerla Marzen (4697), and I think BigWheelGirl had water or something.

Once LaptopGirl's son (LaptopSon?) woke up crying, I was ushered out pretty quickly, so I came home. I sat on my swing and had another bottle of Marzen (4714) and thought about good things.

Then I remembered that I hadn't eaten anything all day so I went to Taco Bell.

The stress level started rising as soon as I left my house. And it grew and it grew and it grew until I left Rich O's.

It was still too soon. It was still too much. I'd thought it I might be okay with being there at night, but I was wrong.

Anyway, I got there at 8:30 or so. It wasn't too crowded, though what crowd there was had occupied those places where I'd wanted to sit. Places where I could eat and maybe be ignored for a while. I didn't want to get into any conversations. I certainly didn't want any damn encouraging words. I just wanted to wait for LaptopGirl. She being the entire reason I was risking my sanity by being there in the first place.

What I ended up doing was sitting on the sofa for a bit. I said hello to TremensGirl and MusicalYuppieDude. At about the time I ordered an NABC Flat Tyre (1029), this one dork left the bar so I moved up there and ordered a little pizza. But then this other dork left the sofa so I moved back there. I'd decided that having my back to the entrance probably wasn't the most brilliant thing for me to do.

Then the subject started being discussed by those around me, and I felt myself starting to freak out.

Then LaptopGirl emailed me that she wasn't coming to Rich O's after all. So I paid my tab and left, donating my little pizza to whoever might want it.

So I figured that I might as well write something. Just for kicks, and stuff.

I wrote an entry this afternoon. It's still in my drafts folder, nowhere near ready for posting. It wasn't supposed to be a depressing entry, but that's how it turned out. So it won't be getting posted anytime soon, not without major revisions.

One of the things I was thinking about, as I sat on my swing tonight, was how almost everyone is the same. Guys think they're cool. Girls think they're cute. Almost everyone thinks they're better than they really are. But, they're not. And they're not unusual or uncommon or unique either. Most people may as well have been born via cookie-cutter.

Is it so strange, I wonder, that when I finally meet those few girls who are actually different than almost everyone else, that I fall for them?

---

In my entry that I wrote today and didn't post, one of the things I mentioned was that SassyGirl had been in town to visit, and that I'd totally blown it with her. I mean, her timing really sucked. And I didn't return her calls, and I didn't go to Rich O's to see her.

I hoped that she would forgive me, eventually, though I doubted that she would.

But then today she called me, and then I called her back. She was still in town.

Yay!

So I went to Rich O's after work to see her.

SassyGirl was my best friend for a long time. Now I get to see her maybe once every six months. That's not nearly enough.

---

A week or so ago I got some publicity for my pool blog. And I got a lot of additional traffic. So much traffic, in fact, that now my server keeps crashing, and my hosting company is threatening to cancel my account.

So, that sucks.

And, right now as I type this, my email isn't working. That royally sucks, because I'm kinda in the middle of a conversation with LaptopGirl, I think.

---

People keep thinking that I mad or sad when I'm not. It's totally understandable, I suppose. At least the sadness thing is. I'm sad a lot of the time.

But I'm hardly ever mad, so I don't know where that accusation comes from.

NotHideousGirl was a champion at thinking that I was mad. But I never was. Until she accused me of it enough to make it self-fulfilling.

UPSDude did the same thing once. He accused me of being mad at him. I told him that I wasn't, but he kept accusing me, over and over, of being mad at him. About a gazillion times he did this, until finally I was mad at him.

---

I really really really want to go somewhere this weekend. Just get away from here for a few hours. I don't know where to go, though.

---

Hmmm, I thought I might have more to write. Maybe later.

Somewhere today, I'm not sure exactly where except that it was at a Subway, something amazing happened.

See, HatGirl was there, and so was LaptopGirl.

HatGirl, I haven't seen in four whole days. That might not seem like a lot, but four days without seeing HatGirl is like a jillion years without seeing most people.

And, speaking of a jillion years, I haven't seen LaptopGirl for at least that long, since right after the first primitive life-forms invented photosynthesis and started pumping oxygen into the atmosphere.

I wonder if, back then, the other primitive life-forms held big demonstrations to complain about all that oxygen polluting the air and causing global cooling.

Anyway.

Having LaptopGirl and HatGirl in the same place at the same time - pretty cool, right?

Except for one little tiny thing.

I wasn't there. So that sucked.

HatGirl was so lucky that she got to see LaptopGirl. LaptopGirl was so lucky that she got to see HatGirl. All those people at that Subway were so lucky that they got to see both of them.

Me, I didn't see shit. I sat here at work like a chump.

In a way, I suppose that the entire universe got lucky as well. Because there was a very real chance that, by having LaptopGirl and HatGirl in such close proximity to each other, there was a chance that a singularity might have formed. A black-hole of loveliness that could have devoured everything that existed.

So whew!

Maybe I was lucky that the universe didn't get destroyed in an inescapable infinite well of awesomeness, but I don't feel very lucky, because I wasn't at that fucking Subway.

One of the things I've wanted to write about here, when things got slow enough and when I didn't feel like writing anything interesting, was this:

Anyway, it's got this auto-spelling feature. What happens is that I press keys like I'm spelling something, and it guesses what I'm trying to spell.

Sometimes this works quite well, but sometimes it sucks.

My own name, for example, is spelled with the keys 4-?-7-1. But the word Dave isn't what it decides that I'm typing. Nope, in its minuscule hardwired brain, it decides that I'm typing the word face.

There are many other examples. One of which is that the keys 5-3-2-? can spell hits, guys, guts, or huts.

It always gives me a choice, but far too often I forget to look at the presented choices. I just take the default. Which is quite often wrong. Which quite often makes me look like an idiot.

But that's not even the worst thing about the auto-spelling. The worst thing is that, I know this one girl named Amanda, and when I type her name into my Blackberry, it decides that what I'm really trying to type is the word Smands.

Smands is the default choice it gives me for the keys ?-9-?-8-4-?.

How stupid is that?

Smands wouldn't even make a cute pet nickname, were I so inclined to use one.

Also, a while ago I needed to type the name Heinlein into my Blackberry.

At that point, upon getting 5-1-3-8-'-1-3-8 as input, the auto-spell circuits overheated and the entire Blackberry burst into flames.

What a piece of shit, it never even heard of Robert Heinlein.

I would climb onto her lap, and rest my head against her chest.

She would wrap her arms around me, and she would hum gentle melodies.

And she would rock me gently, and I would feel safe enough to let tears flow from me like a river.

And she would make everything all better.

In retrospect, it was still too much too soon. But I went to Rich O's after work. My excuse was that it was pizza night, and I'd skipped last Monday, so if I didn't have pizza tonight, I might die or something.

Contrary to popular belief, I don't particularly want to die right now.

Also, is pizza-withdrawal a real affliction?

Anyway, there's some new dork working there. I never saw him before in my life, and when I sat in the throne, he came up and asked me if I wanted a beer.

My first inclination was to say, "No thanks. I'm flattered, but I'm straight."

But then I saw that he was carrying an official Rich O's notepad, so I went ahead and ordered an NABC Jasmine (110).

Then people left me alone for the most part, except this one dude who asked me some stupid question that didn't really need an answer.

Then MisunderstoodGirl sat and talked to me for a while about irrelevant things, and that was cool because I was really freaking out that people would want to get relevant on me.

Then ArtGirl came in and I got to talk to her for the next hour or so. We played musical chairs. It was fun.

Then I had another Jasmine (120) even though it was getting pretty late and therefore scary for me to be there.

Then TremensGirl came in and said more words to me in five minutes than she's said to me in the previous four months. So that was nice.

Then I found myself rambling on and on to MusicalYuppieDude about relevant things, so I knew it was time for me to leave. Luckily, my pizza was ready by then, so I came home.

Too soon. I knew that going in, but I still went. That place has a very annoying pull on me sometimes.

I'll admit, there was some juggling that took place to make LaptopGirl's recommendation come out as my 500th beer rating.

See, there was a chance that we were going to rate it together. But those opportunities kept slipping by. Eventually, I think, we each realized that she has more important things to worry about than my stupid beer ratings.

But the nice thing is that there's plenty of swill in the world, so there will be other opportunities for a joint-rating.

Anyway, here are the last four official beer ratings, beginning with my swill consultant's official recommendation for my 500th rating:

Sapporo Premium

(can) Looks like fizzy urine. Decent white head that seemed to last. Aroma of wet grass - slightly rotten. Thin mouthfeel. Flavor is smooth and a little creamy. Just the slightest hoppy finish. A typical pale lager, neither better nor worse than the rest. Typical lager swill.

Thirsty Dog Siberian Night

(bottle) Black, with a thin brown head. Aroma was surprising - it smelled like tires. Medium sticky mouthfeel. Flavor of bitter chocolate, roasted malts, and licorice. The finish was extremely well balanced - it just slid down my throat. Pretty damn good.

Franziskaner Hefe-Weissbier

(draft) Hazy light brown - darker than others in this style. Aroma standard for the style, bananas along with cloves and other subtle spices. The flavor was subdued and fleeting. A little more yeasty than I was expecting. Very good, though.

Stone Bitter Chocolate Oatmeal Stout

(bottle) Black with a thin brown head that faded quickly. Aroma was milder than I was expecting - chocolate and malts. Medium mouthfeel. Flavor was malts and chocolate, but it seemed tame. The finish was very strong chocolate, almost too strong. It was only after my taste buds had been beaten into submission that I was able to really appreciate the finish. Lingering and coating dark chocolate. A very damn good beer. I want to try this on tap, but I'm not holding my breath for that.

At first, and for a long time afterwards, I thought of it as a bubble. Like one blown from a plastic wand held in a child's hand. So impossibly beautiful, yet so very fragile.

Look, but don't touch. Never, ever touch, lest that shimmering beauty be destroyed in an instant by my careless poke.

How was I to have known?

That bubble, one September night, it suddenly changed into something else. It grew even as I shrank. It moved even as I stood still, transfixed. Mesmerized by what was happening. Fearful, yet unable and unwilling to flee.

That bubble, it encased me.

It still encases me. It protects me and it traps me at the same time.

It was never a bubble.

It was, is, my world.

It took me a long time to see the truth.

I belong here.

1. Sleep 10 hours.
2. Play Crysis for a while.
3. Go to Polly's Freeze for lunch.
4. Drive around for a couple of hours.
5. Sit in garage.
6. Shoot pool.
7. Sit on swing.
8. Glare at phone.

I seem to have lost the ability to take naps. I don't really count what happened Friday evening - that wasn't so much a nap as it was a collapse.

For the last week or two or three - it's all a blur, I've settled onto my couch after work, called for my cat Buddy (who always takes a nap with me) and waited for sleep that never comes. Sleep does not come to me, only thoughts of drowning.

This was again the case yesterday, after I got home from Jeffersonville. I was as tired as I can ever remember being, but sleep was beyond me. So, I went to my sister's party earlier than I'd expected.

It was a pleasant enough event. Crowds are never my thing, though. Everybody knows that. Usually I'll sit at these things and I'll talk to one or two people exclusively for hours. Last night that didn't seem to be an option. Dina was busy being hostess with the mostest. BadPickleGirl was not coming, despite my calling her and pretty much begging her to do so. SpoonsGirl was in a crappy mood, and Eric and Teri were AWOL.

So I was left with the crowd. All good people, certainly. But they're Dina's people, not mine.

I lost count of how many times I caught myself wondering if LaptopGirl would have joined me, had I specifically invited her. My estimate is that I wondered that about a million times.

Anyway, to drink I had a couple bottles of Spezial (1886) and a bottle of Newcastle (10396). I sat with the crowd and tried to not seem like too much of a weirdo. I petted the cat, a lot. I glared at my phone, a lot.

At one point I noticed that my table had become besieged by women. All that estrogen. I began to feel a strange urge to ask for directions and make doilies, so I moved to their new tiki bar and joined the guys. There, of course, everyone talked about hunting.

I came home at 10:00 or so. I sat on my swing and had a yummy Marzen (4585). And I glared at my phone, a lot.

It's hard for me, sometimes, to think about things not directly related to myself. To remember those times which, were I a much lesser man, I might deem irrelevant.

But I am not a lesser man. And these particular memories are effortless. All I have to do is relax, for just a second. I absolutely remember that terrible morning, which followed that terrible night. I remember that phone call. I remember the looks on everyone's faces once I got to my sister's house. I remember the days and weeks that followed. I remember the shock and the disbelief that somehow still manage to crush me whenever I find myself distracted.

I think I'm sad about my own petty problems of lost loves?

My problems are the ones that are irrelevant. Just ask my sister. She fucking knows what's relevant.

I have his picture on my refrigerator. Cory and his sister and his brother. Every time I get something to drink, I see his face. Every single time.

It's been almost a year now.

Plans quickly changed, as they are so often wont to do.

Instead of HatGirl and I going to look at diamonds then having lunch, It ended up being HatGirl and LuckyFucker going to look at diamonds, then joining me for lunch. I was still invited to go to the diamond thing, but I didn't want to feel like a third wheel all day long.

So, suddenly finding myself with an extra hour to kill, I went to Sportstime. It had been a week since I'd been to the NABC complex, and I was hopeful that Marzen might finally be back on tap.

But nooooooo!

So instead I had myself a nice Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (2554) and I talked to MisunderstoodGirl as she scurried between the kitchen and her assigned tables.

Then I went over to Buckhead in Jeffersonville. Actually, first I poked my head into the Hooters there to see if my cousin Jeff was there. He wasn't, so I went to Buckhead then.

HatGirl and LuckyFucker were, of course, late in arriving. I guess I'm used to that, and this time it wasn't their fault. A diamond emergency made them late.

Once they arrived, we sat out on the deck and ordered lunch. For some reason, even though there were about 10 open tables out there, the hostess sat us right next to the only other occupied table. It was really strange. It was also quite annoying, and HatGirl especially didn't like it. So we ended up picking up our shit and moving inside.

That HatGirl is so anti-social sometimes. That's why we get along so well I guess.

And one of the waitresses kept giving me the stink-eye. Probably one of MixedSignalGirl's friends. (About your height, Miss. Maybe about 32 years old. With long dark hair in a pony tail. She kinda looked familiar.)

Oh yeah, with my lunch I had a Franziskaner Hefe-Weissbier (24). I would have had a Paulaner, but they were out, the fuckers.

Then once lunch was over I stuck my head back into Hooters. Jeff was there this time, but he was surrounded by a bunch of high-fiving white guys, so I quickly said hello and then came home.

I get to go see HatGirl now and look at diamonds and maybe have lunch!

Yay!

This stupid cursor keeps blinking at me, taunting me. Daring me to write something. When I press the keys, the letters appear, and the blinking stops. Until I stop pressing keys, then it starts again.

Each blink marks another wasted second. Another lost moment in which I could have written something, but didn't. Another moment that I'll never get back.

---

I really have a bad case of cabin fever right now. I've got to get out of this house, but I don't seem to be able to find the motivation to leave. It's like, I want to be somewhere else, but I don't want the hassle of actually going. And I can't decide where I want to be.

Actually, that's not right. I know exactly where I want to be. But that's not an option. And so I'm faced with a million lesser choices.

---

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

---

Maybe after I take a shower I'll be more motivated.

It doesn't make any sense that I'm as exhausted as I am right now. I mean, I took a four-hour nap that ended only four hours ago.

So I slept too long, and when I woke up, I didn't feel like going to my stupid high school reunion. So, I didn't go. What I did instead was sit on my swing and drink a couple beers and watch some lightning. I think I made the right decision, though I imagine that I'll probably regret skipping the reunion at some point.

It ended up being a nice quiet Friday night. Just what I needed and wanted.

There was a bit of potential excitement for a while, when HatGirl pondered joining me for a drink or two. But then she and/or LuckyFucker pussed out, and those plans dissolved before they had fully formed.

So, to summarize, I slept for four hours, then I sat on my ass for four more hours, and now I'm exhausted.