Go read this.

Wow, this day really dragged by, but then the hours between 6:30 and 9:30 were gone in a blink. It's already past my bedtime.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this entry. Probably nowhere. I don't have any particular topic in mind. I just wanted to write something. I get so tired of not writing something.

It's all fine with me, actually. Very weird, I know. I haven't been fine in a long time. I'm not sure what happened. I think maybe I just changed my perspective a little. There was certainly nothing earth-shattering. Maybe I started focusing on the tree instead of the forest. Maybe I stopped being angry and sad about the things and maybe I finally noticed the reasons for the things. Maybe I'm in denial yet again, but I really don't think so.

It's different this time. It might even last, this time.

Meanwhile, my cat Buddy is here at my feet. He's all shaved, except for his legs and his tail and his head. He really does look ridiculous, but I'm not going to tell him that or he might rip me to shreds. I can tell that he's really embarrassed. Especially since, to add insult to injury, they put a foo-foo ribbon around his neck.

Nugget is, of course, hiding under the sofa. He doesn't recognize the new "improved" Buddy. I don't think he even realizes that it's a cat, let alone that it's the same cat that's been his friend for his entire life.

Man, I seem to be writing about cats a lot lately. What am I, on the internet or something?

As I've said before, I like to go and read through my old entries. It reminds me that I used to be a better writer than I am now. These were originally three different entries. I have combined them for your convenience.

This is kinda cool to me.

I was sitting at The Hard Rock in Louisville for lunch. I usually go to The Pub, but it was too crowded today, plus I wanted some potato skins.

Anyway, I was sitting at the bar, and down about four or five seats from me were two hot girls. A short-haired blonde and a long-haired brunette. Both pretty, but in very different ways. One sexy and sultry, the other perky and vivacious.

So I spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out which one was the hotter of the two. I know, it's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

I kept glancing over there, getting no closer to making up my mind as to which was hotter, and eventually the blonde caught me looking. She kind of smiled. I smiled back, then turned back to my food, 'cause I'm all shy and shit. I could see out of the corner of my eye that both girls were now looking at me, though I couldn't hear what they were saying. Probably arguing over which of them was hotter, I figured.

I'd just about decided to stage a kissing contest between them when the blonde spoke to me.

"You kept looking over here at us for a half-hour, and now you've suddenly stopped. What's up with that?" she asked in a not very nice way.

"Well," I said. "I was trying to decide which of you would be my new girlfriend, but now I've made up my mind and I don't have to look any more."

"Oh really?" the blonde said. She was smiling, so she was at least slightly amused.

"Yep," I said. "You're both very pretty, but I'm thinking that you're not very nice, so I choose your friend."

"You sure know how to hold a grudge," the blonde said.

Hold on a second. That didn't make any sense.

"Huh?" I asked. 'Cause I'm all eloquent and shit.

"Don't you remember me?" the blonde asked. "Look closely. Don't you know who I am?"

She then got up and walked over to me and stuck her face right in front of mine.

---

After a couple of seconds, I guess a little tiny sense of familiarity crept into my head. I began to feel that I should know who this cocky loud pretty girl was, but I had no real chance to investigate that feeling because that's when her friend finally spoke.

"What are you doing?" she asked the blonde. And then she said her name.

She said her name, and a door inside my head creaked open, and I remembered.

I remembered a party, in Hancock's field, a long time ago. I remembered waking up in the back of my parents' Mercury Comet, wearing only my underwear and a jacket. I remembered digging through the trash on the floorboards, looking for my keys and my shoes and my pants and my shirt. I remembered finding all those things, and I remembered also finding a little blue sock, and one of those hair barrette thingies, and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, and an empty condom wrapper.

I remembered going to a basketball game at school a couple of weeks later, and being greeted like an old friend by a cute blonde girl wearing a Providence High School Jacket. Being greeted like more than a friend actually.

I remembered confessing that I didn't remember meeting her, being with her, at all. That I'd woken up in the back of my car alone and confused and unclothed. I remembered how she laughed that off, and how she'd said that she'd have to try harder to be memorable the next time.

I remembered that the next time started about fifteen minutes later, in my cousin Jeff's station wagon.

I remembered countless nights after that, sneaking out of my house with my friend Eddie. I remembered that he'd drop me off at where she worked, or to where she lived. I remembered lying on her bed, holding hands and listening to Pink Floyd. I remembered doing a lot of other things in her bed.

I remembered the night she told me that she loved me, and how I'd echoed those words right back at her. I remembered how we started to tell people that we were engaged. That as soon as my basic training was over, and I was stationed at my first base, we'd get married and raise kids and we'd always laugh about how, on the night we'd met, I was too drunk to even remember her.

I remember how everyone said we were crazy.

I remembered how she'd come to the Air Force induction center to see me off. I remembered holding her close and telling her that I'd see her again in a few short weeks, and that we'd be together from that moment on.

I remembered that I'd never seen her again.

Not for more than 23 years.

Until lunch today.

So once I picked my jaw up off the floor, I just looked at her. I had no idea what to say, what to ask, what to feel. She saved the day by doing all the talking. She's been married for a long time. She has two grown children. She still loves Pink Floyd, and she still has most of The Wall memorized. I stammered out that I do too.

She said that I hadn't changed a bit, which was a beautiful lie. I said that she hadn't changed either, and as proof I offered up the fact that it had taken me so long to remember her.

We didn't discuss what had happened, back in 1983. Why she'd moved. Where she'd gone. There wasn't time for any of that, and there wasn't really a need for any of that. We were each others' distant past, and that was all that we were.

As I gave her a hug and said goodbye, I wondered if it would be another 23 years before I saw her again. I wondered if I'd do a better job of remembering her in 23 years. I wondered if I'd even remember my own name in 23 years.

Anyway, I guess that makes it official. I have officially run out of women. Time to dig out that little black book from high school, and start over.

---

Not that it really matters. I'm just a little surprised. But I found some stuff out today.

You only knew each other for a few months before he joined the Army. And as far as I know, after your fumbling attempts to date, the only times you saw each other were when I was there with you. Shit, I think Eddie was screwing that one chick non-stop for about six months before he left. What was her name? Linda or Lindsey or some shit like that? I can't remember, but she works at my bank now. She did the paperwork for my home loan. She didn't remember me from the old days.

But I digress.

I'm pretty sure that you two never hooked up when I was still around. It must have been after. After I'd left for basic training, Eddie must have come home on leave or something. He must have looked you up, or maybe he just happened to run into you at the floodwall or at some party.

You probably got to talking about the good old days, and something happened between you two. I wonder who made the first move. Probably you, I'm guessing.

And now you've been married for over 20 years, and have two grown children with him.

Pretty weird. But it explains why I never saw either one of you again. Because you were ashamed.

I'm not sad. I'm not even angry. It's not like I just lost a friend and a girlfriend. I lost you both a long time ago. It's just that now I finally know why. So that's good. Mystery solved.

If anything, I'm a little miffed that I didn't get the chance to find out, to be angry, back when it first happened. That's a lesson that, had I learned it a little earlier in my life, that might have sent me on a completely different path.

Plus, I had you first, and that's hilarious to me. I wonder, back in the beginning, when what you did with Eddie could still have been seen as cheating on me, I wonder how many times you called out my name by mistake.

I wonder if you still call out my name, every now and then. You know, just to keep him on his toes.

'Cause he needs to be on his toes. He married a whore, after all.

I dunno, I guess I just feel like writing something. I'm a little bored at the moment. Just watching the clock with one eye and glaring at my phone with the other eye. So yes, I'm typing this blind.

Whenever that was, a week or two or three ago - time blurs for me lately - I took my cats Nugget and Buddy to the vet to be tested. I've mentioned it before, but I have LaptopGirl's cat living on my deck. Well, a couple of times he came inside my house. He's a fast little fucker. And when I took Picklepie (the cat) to the vet for shots and testing, he tested positive for the feline leukemia virus.

This sucks, by the way.That poor kitty. But it not only sucks for Picklepie, it could very well have sucked for my "real" cats Buddy and Nugget, too.

So I took them in, one at a time because they're too fat for both of them to fit in the carrier at the same time. Nugget was first. I scheduled him first on purpose, because I knew that if he saw the carrier he would run and hide and I wouldn't see him again until Spring.

Anyway, Nugget tested negative. Whew!

And then I had to do some thinking.

See, if my cats tested positive, then I was just going to bring Picklepie inside and make him an indoor cat. He wouldn't have liked it very much, but he'd have gotten used to it eventually. It would be like I was running a little leper colony for cats.

Alternatively, if my cats tested negative, then I was going to have to try as hard as I could to find a home for Picklepie. He couldn't live inside my house, and it would be totally irresponsible for me to leave him outdoors where he could/would infect other cats.

But, I wondered, what should I do if only one of my cats tested positive? After all, Buddy had been in much closer proximity to Picklepie on those occasions when the latter came inside, Nugget having scrambled into the basement to cower. Buddy would stand his ground, even going so far as to follow Picklepie around the house and smell him.

What I decided, and this wasn't an easy decision, was that if only one of my cats tested positive, I was going to bring Picklepie inside my house even knowing that my other cat would be infected. There was just no way I could see myself separating Buddy and Nugget. They've been together for 11 years, after all. Plus, they're both old, and probably don't have all that many years left anyway. Because the feline leukemia can take years and years to develop, there were pretty good odds that neither of my cats would ever develop it. They'd be dead of some other causes - Buddy probably from too much indignation, Nugget perhaps from getting so scared of a moth that he forgets to breathe for a week - before the leukemia could manifest.

Well, as it turned out, neither of my cats tested positive. Whew again!

And that's what got me to where I am. Where I still am. With a contagious cat that I need to find a home for.

So this chick at the mini mart, for some reason, thinks that I'm friendly. Because of that misguided belief, she's always trying to talk to me.

Tonight she asked me, "Quick, think about the 80s. What's your first memory?"

I said what I'm supposed to say, having been me and having lived as myself throughout that entire decade.

"Being present for the birth of my daughter," I said.

That seemed to satisfy the poor girl, so she didn't ask any more questions.

I could have just as easily said "my wedding" or "the first day of basic training" or maybe even "graduating from high school" and any of those responses would probably have shut her up just as well as the thing about my daughter.

What I should have said, what my real first thought about the 80s was, I didn't want to say. I didn't want to tell that semi-perfect stranger at the mini mart.

But I'll tell you people.

One morning Eddie called me and told me that Jackie had finally died. That was the phrasing he used, the fucker.

That was my real first thought about that decade.

Okay, so what about the other decades? What's my first thought about them?

In the 1960s, I saw tears in my dad's eyes as we watched some men bounce around in white suits on a white world. I didn't understand - dad's weren't supposed to cry.

In the 1970s, I walked home from my elementary school graduation. It was about five miles. I wanted to commemorate the occasion, so I walked.

In the 1990s, I had to shoot a match against a really good player. I was afraid to play him because I felt he was better than me. As it turned out, I entered the zone, and I kicked his ass. He never knew what hit him.

In the 2000s, I sat in the parking lot at the Burger King on Grant Line Road, and I heard some words on my phone, and I died.

Go here and read it. Add one to any mention of the number of years. It's been six years now. The sixth of at least six-million, I believe.

I think I'm going to go to Rich O's in a bit. Maybe I'll eat there, or eat at Wendy's on the way. I don't think I've eaten since Thursday evening.

I'm irritated because there's no weird feeling that I'm home. I woke up a few times last night, and it felt like I'd never even left. I was just home because that's where Ilive and in my bed because that's where I sleep and alone because that's how my life is. Usually the feeling of wow, I'm back home and it feels weird will last at least a day or two. Not this time.

My neck still hurts. I foobared it bad the other night, I guess. This morning I took a long shower with hot water pouring on my neck, and it didn't help.

For like the last two weeks, I've kept my bedroom door closed. This is because when Buddy sees a pile of laundry he pees on it.

So my laundry piles have remained pee-free.

Then this morning I took a load out of the dryer, put it in the laundry basket, and took it to my room. I set the laundry basket on my bed to take the clothes out.

Buddy had peed on the floor of my laundry room, and it had gotten all over the bottom of the laundry basket, so I'd unwittingly transferred that pee to my bedspread.

So now today I have to go buy a new bedspread. One that's neither gay nor soaked in cat pee.

Grrr.

A million years or so ago, I used to have my very own muse. Heck, she even kept being my muse for a couple of years after she stopped being my girlfriend. She'd call me or, more often, visit my site, around 11:00 PM each night. She'd see if I'd written anything new that day. And, if I hadn't, well she'd make damn sure that I didn't go to bed until I had written something.

Sigh.

I miss her. I miss her for lots of reasons. Not just because she was my muse. I guess she's doing okay. I haven't talked to her in at least 9 months. Weird how things change.

Today has been a very long day. I think I started yawning around 11:00 AM, and I haven't really stopped since. And I don't mean that I've yawned several times - I mean that I've let out one long yawn, for almost 10 hours now. I know that I'm tired. I only slept for 4 hours last night. But it might be something else. Something more. I kinda feel like my Fall seasonal allergies might be starting up. If so, then they're about a month early.

Last Fall, my allergies were so bad that my nose started bleeding from all the wiping and nose-blowing I did. There was a steady stream of snot and blood flowing from my face. Yes, it was gross, thanks for asking.

Meanwhile, I continue to wait for that killing blow. It hasn't come. Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm ashamed to say that I'm more than a little bit fooled by what's been going on.

Stupid hope...

I'm so tired right now. I need to go to bed.

Tomorrow I've got a thingy to attend. There might be some people from my old job there. That would be cool. Most of those people, I'd love to see again. A couple of them could drop dead on the way to the thingy and I wouldn't bat an eye. I guess I'll see what I'll see. I probably won't be bored, that's for sure.

In less than two weeks I'll be in Las Vegas again. It'll be different, this time. I don't really think there's a reason to go. Not anymore. Problem is, there's never really been a reason to stay in Indiana, either.

I guess that's it. Maybe I'll have a beer and then glare at my phone for a while before I go to bed.

Today, we saw a weird thing.

In the middle of Bumfuck, Indiana, about halfway between Georgetown and the middle of nowhere, there was a dude. Walking fairly quickly along the side of the road. Dragging a mattress.

It was one of those air-filled mattresses. I don't know if that makes it more or less weird.

I wish we'd thought to stop and take pictures and ask the dude WTF.

I bet it was a really fascinating story.

Now we'll never know.

When I went there, the saleperson/manager who screwed me over wasn't there. The manager on duty said that he'd call me tomorrow.

So what I did was I went to another furniture store and bought a bed there. While I was at it, I bought an additional $1000 of bedroom furniture.

I can't wait to tell the guy tomorrow that (a) I spent $1500 on at a competitor's store, and (b) they'd never see another dime of my money.

So they brought the box spring, and the mattress, and the water bladder, and the heater, and the support thingy.

What they didn't fucking bring is the frame or the headboard.

They weren't on their order, and when they checked my receipt, they weren't on the receipt.

They open at 12:00. I'm going to go there and rip somebody's head off.

If I decided to write something every day, which I haven't done, I think it would be hard.

It seems to me that there are two primary sources of inspiration for blog entries.

1. Something that I've been thinking about.
2. Something that happened.

Well, as I've said before, I have too much of one thing and not enough of the other.

I could, if I was really determined, write about the rainstorm that trapped me at the mall today. About how it trapped me just outside the JC Penney, with about a dozen old women. We all stood under this awning, waiting for the rain to let up so we could get to the parking lot dryly.

I could also write about how, after about five minutes, I realized that there I was, ostensibly a man, cowering with a bunch of old women, and that perhaps I should just grow a pair and fuck it and get wet.

Then I could write about how, after about three steps into that rain, I was as wet as I'd have been if I'd just jumped into a lake.

But I won't write about any of that stuff, because it's boring.

You can thank me later.

Then I had Red Lobster for dinner, and it was yummy. Company would have been nice, though.

That's boring, too.

So, apparently, Pizza Hut is now hiring disabled people to take phone orders. Good for them, I guess.

Before this, I was pretty sure that I'd seen every possible misspelling of my last name. Even the infamous Sililililitz from 1986.

For an added chuckle compare the phone number to my actual number.

Yeah, I'm awake again. Been that way for a couple of hours. So I got five hours of sleep. That should be enough, even for the long day ahead of me. Heck, it might even help to get me back onto a normal schedule.

In a few hours I get to drive to Bumfuck, Egypt, to attend my uncle's funeral. There seems to me some confusion, at least on my part, about exactly when the thing is happening. Either noon or 11:00. So I'll show up in time for either schedule.

That will all eat about four hours out of my day, I think. Then I have a dinner date with HatGirl! Yay! That will be nice. It's been a long time. I hope she doesn't cancel on me again.

Then, I dunno. Maybe Rich O's will be safe. I doubt it, though.

Four hours seems to be my limit on sleep. No matter how tired I think I am, no matter if I feel like I could sleep forever, I always seem to wake up after a couple of hours.

And I don't even seem to wake up like a normal person. There's no period of drowsiness to ease the transition. Nope, one second I'm asleep, and the next second I'm wide awake.

Sometimes, I can remember the dream or the stray thought that so forcefully awakened me, but not often, or even most of the time. Most of the time, it just happens.

So, I get out of bed and I find something to do.

Tonight, I started feeling really tired around 9:30. I was out in my garage, glaring at my phone, waiting for it to woohoo or quack at me. I decided that, if I hadn't heard anything by 10:30, I'd go to bed and sleep forever.

Well, I didn't hear anything by 10:30, so I went to bed. My phone did quack around 11:00, so that was nice. By some miracle, I was able to go back to sleep after that.

I slept until a little after 2:00, when I found myself wide awake.

So, I got up, watched some old episodes of Lost, and then sat down to write this boring entry.

When I was in the shower, some chick left me a voicemail.

"Ellen, it's me. Call me at work when you get this."

Should I call her and tell her that she dialed the wrong number?

Does it matter that she sounded cute?

(UPDATE: I texted her that she'd dialed the wrong number earlier.)

Tonight, I won't be in my garage. Nope, I'll be on my roof.

I'll be watching the Gamma Virginids meteor shower. This is a minor shower, and it's one that I normally ignore, but last night there was a huge fireball. I didn't get to see it - I guess it was visible way North of here - but maybe tonight there'll be another one.

That would be cool, I think. I've seen small fireballs before, but never one as huge as the one last night.

For years, I'd thought about doing something here for April Fools Day.

Disclaimer: I don't know if it's supposed to be April Fools Day or April Fools' Day or April Fool's Day. A google search reveals all three variants. I'm just going to use the first choice because it's easier.

Anyway, I'd wanted to do a hoax or a prank for a long time. The problem was that, every year, I wouldn't remember that I wanted to do something until around 10:00 PM on April 1st. And by then it was pretty much too late. Well, this year, I remembered around noon on March 31st, so this year, it was on.

It took me a while to decided exactly what to do, though. I wanted it to be something at least halfway believable - something that, if it happened any other day, would solicit some surprise and maybe some shock, but not too much disbelief. I also wanted it to be something good or at least neutral. Like, I didn't want to announce to the world that I had some terminal disease, or that I was moving to Alaska. Those things might have upset some people.

Full disclosure: I actually did consider the Alaska story for quite a while. But I decided against it because there are a couple of people who might have been upset at the thought of me moving so far away.

I told my sisters to ignore anything I posted on April 1st, and then later I told HatGirl the same thing. I felt that HatGirl would make a good co-conspirator, no matter what I ended up choosing for my hoax.

It wasn't until I got home Wednesday night that I decided what I'd be doing. Actually, it was StupidGirl's idea. I'd propose to her, then fly to Las Vegas Thursday morning and we'd get married. Because of her involvement, the entire hoax moved to where it was mostly on facebook, and only on barenada.com as overspray. StupidGirl played along fantastically. She added her own posts to facebook to complement my own. She even found a copy of a Nevada wedding certificate that I could Photoshop and post.

HatGirl added to the hoax as well, by posting how excited she was for us. And then several others unwittingly joined in the fun by believing that it was all real.

It was the perfect choice. It was something that people could actually imagine me doing. Hell, it was something that I could imagine me doing. We had so much fun with it that StupidGirl and I were both actually sad when our fake marriage ended.

I'm already trying to think of something to do for next year. So far, I've got nothing, but there's still plenty of time. It's been suggested that I should come out of the closet on April 1st, 2011, but I would never do that for fear of all the cries of "I knew it all along!"

I went to the store just now. I got to the end of my driveway, and then realized that I didn't have my phone with me.

But that's not the really weird part.

The really weird part is that I didn't slam on my brakes and run into my house to get my phone. Nope, I just went to the store and came back.

Like a normal person.

I was going to write about my trip to South Carolina, but I seem to have lost the ability to write anything interesting.

I think that the subjects I most want to write about are the ones I've decided to leave alone. Unfortunately, those thoughts are the only ones my brain can process.

Anyway, I got a wild hair and I drove to South Carolina Thursday. I watched the moon rise over the ocean, and then a few hours later I watched the sun rise over the ocean. On Saturday, I drove back home.

Then, I got to see HatGirl at Rich O's.

The end.

There are some things of which I'm sure. Those things require zero thought or consideration. I just know. What to say and when to say it and why to say it.

This isn't one of those things. This is different. This is hazy.

What should I say? What the fuck should I say?

Something simple and predictable, and therefore safe? And also stupid?

No, I don't think so.

Okay, how about something bold and ballsy and maybe even a little scary?

How about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

Is the truth ever inappropriate?

About four and a half years ago, my life changed. I didn't know it at the time, but I guess I at least suspected it. Something happened, on that day and on most of the days that have followed. I noticed, when it happened. I most certainly noticed, and I've continued to do so, for four and a half years.

I know the word. Fine, I'll say it.

Distracted.

How does a simple word like that manage to mean so much?

I knew, from the moment that I met you, that you were so very special. Because you did what nobody else, before or since, has managed to do. Without even trying, you distracted me. Made me become unfocused. Unclear. Unsure. Unsteady. Uneasy.

Nobody understands what it's taken to distract me. Yet you've done it so many times, without even trying. To the point when a distraction stops being a distraction, and it takes on a life of its own, and it becomes its own thing. Its own incredible awesome thing.

Happy birthday, to my dear dear friend HatGirl. You, more than anyone else, have made this bullshit I use for a life bearable. I want to breath because of her, but in actuality, I continue to breathe because of you. The strength that you demonstrate to me, and the faith and trust that you've placed in me...

Humbling.

Challenging.

Motivating.

I will do my best to follow your example of strength. I may fail, but I will do my best.

And I promise you this: I will never ever ever ever ever cause you to lose faith or trust in me.

In me, of all people!

So, again, happy birthday to you, my dear friend HatGirl.

I'm missing your birthday. I'm 1954 miles away from you on your 30th birthday. I may never forgive myself for this, but I'll try. Because I know you want me to.

Words never seem to be enough, but I've done the best I could do with what I have.

...44 to go.

Today was a pretty good day, considering the circumstances.

I got this strong urge to shoot some pool. I don't know why, I just did.

I didn't even want to shoot against anyone. I just wanted to knock some balls into some holes. Sometimes, like tonight, that's all I want to do. Simple, but effective.

So I went to this Royal something-or-other place. It sucked. It was a nightclub with some pool tables. I wanted the exact opposite, except without the nightclub stuff.

I can't even remember the name of the place I went. The something.

That narrows it down.

All I wanted to do was knock some balls into some holes. But I was not about to back down from a challenge. Not this time.

It took about 10 seconds for one of the local "sharks" to detect me. It took about 60 seconds for us to negotiate a game, with a "friendly" wager and a "fair" spot.

It took about 5 minutes for me to realize that, in that particular little pond, I was the big fish.

The pussy quit me after a couple of hours and several hundred dollars. I don't really blame him except that he'd originally acted like he had money to burn.

The thing is, nobody up here knows how to play banks. Oh, certainly, people know how to bank, many of them much better than me, but to play the game of banks requires a special mindset. One that I possess, and others up here don't.

Like taking candy from a baby.

...48 to go.

I want to write about eggs for a minute. Groan all you want, I don't care. I hardly ever write about eggs, so I'm way overdue. If you don't like it, feel free to go here instead. Have a nice time there.

There's a bar/restaurant/casino right next to my hotel. They have food, and they have a couple of good beers. It's handy-dandy. Unless you try, as I've done for the last two days, to order fried eggs.

These people don't know how to make a fried egg. They have some kind of mental defect that prevents them from understanding this simple concept:

Break open an egg. Dump it onto a hot surface. Break the yolk. Once it's cooked for a while, turn it over and cook it some more.

Simple, right?

This is called a fried egg in every place on Earth, except at this bar/restaurant/casino next to my hotel. In this place, they cannot figure it out. The closet they can do is over-easy.

I don't want over-easy. I don't want over-medium. I don't want over-hard. I don't want sunny-side-up. And I don't want scrambled or poached or hard-boiled. I just want a fucking fried egg, or two, or three. I want the goddamn yolk broken, and I want everything to be cooked solid.

Is that so hard to understand?

Apparently, it is.

On Saturday, I asked for three fried eggs, and I got three eggs over-easy. A federal case ensued.

On Sunday, I told the waitress that I didn't want another federal case. She assured me that it wouldn't happen again. So I ordered three fried eggs. I explained what I meant.

A short while later, the cook emerged from the kitchen. He explained that the waitress was confused, and he asked if I would explain to him what I wanted.

So I explained to him. He said he understood.

A few minutes later, I was presented with three fucking over-easy eggs.

So, I give up. I ended up eating three pieces of toast - they came with my eggs - that cost me $8.00.

...sixty-eight to go.

Today was fucked up. Everyone was gone from work. People I needed for information, or for authorization. But I dealt with it, because that's what I'm paid to do. Fix what I can fix, and document what I cannot fix. Plan and research and do my best to prepare for when I can do something that matters.

It was, mainly, a day of glaring for me. Externally, at my phone, and internally, at my heart.

I got so mad, for a while. There was no excuse for my anger, but neither was there any excuse for the source of my anger. So I guess it was balanced or some such crap.

Then my phone rang, and I wanted to live again.

So that was cool.

It's not right, and it's not wrong. It just is.

Happy birthday to LaptopGirl!

So many things have changed in the past year. For you, for me, for us. But the important things remain the same. The words I wrote last year on this date are now, and will forever be, true.

I'm so glad you were born, you sweet, sweet girl. The world is a much better place because you're in it.

I think I'm going to a new bar for dinner after work. New to me, I mean. It's next to where I work, and a couple of people have said they have good burgers. Maybe I'm craving a burger. I don't think I've had one on a month.

I need to find a place that feels right to me. I have this mental image of myself sitting at a bar and drinking and thinking. And also smoking, but in Washington I can't do that, so I've had to revise my image.

Anyway, I need to find a bar like that. Where I can just sit and drink and think. And glare at my phone, at least, Because glaring at the door wouldn't make much sense.

When I was in Las Vegas, I actually did glare at the entrance to whatever bar I happened to be in. That was more from overblown hope than from insanity. If I glared that any entrances up here, that would be pretty insane, I think. So I haven't done it. Yet.

Now I'm starving for a cheeseburger.

...to my sister Dina!

Wish I could have been there for it.

Back when I started this thing - call it a blog or a journal, I don't really care - the purpose was very different than it's been lately. Back then, it was just something I did so that people (my sisters, mainly) would know that I had a life; that I didn't spend my life sitting in a dark closet, sucking my thumb and rocking fore and aft.

More recently, of course, this thing has been used primarily to whine about my life and the lack thereof.

Well, I'm not going to say that I'm not going to whine anymore. That would be a lie. I guarantee that I'll whine again, and probably sooner than later. But not tonight.

For the next 10 weeks, I'll be gone from that thing that I've been using instead of a life. I'm out of touch, despite the occasional email or text message, and I'm also out of sync. The three-hour difference in time zones sucks. It means that, for example, it's 10:00 PST as I type this in Bellingham, but back home all of the people I care about are already asleep.

I miss my friends and family, and I suppose that's to be expected.

Okay, I guess I'll type something while I wait for my heartbeat to return to normal.

If it ever does.

I was just in bed, replaying the events and conversations of the day. It was 3:20 AM.

My doorbell rang.

I stayed where I was. Trying to fool myself into thinking that I'd imagined it.

My doorbell rang again.

At first, I thought that perhaps it was one of my friends in trouble, or maybe some motorist with car trouble.

But, because my mind works the way it works, as I got out of bed and groped for some clothes, my thoughts raced back to a night over two years ago. I thought about how police had appeared at my sister's house in the middle of the night, and how they'd given her the worst news possible.

My doorbell rang again.

My heart rate doubled.

I went to the door and looked out the window.

A policeman, of course.

My heart rate redoubled.

The space between two rapid heartbeats saw the death of everyone I cared about, one after another.

"Police," the cop said to me when he saw me in the window.

"Duh," I thought.

"Hello?" I asked.

"I'm afraid..." he began.

My heart rate somehow managed to double again.

"...that you have a loose horse," he finished.

It took me a second.

I mean, what did a horse have to do with someone I loved being dead? Why was he wasting my time telling me about a horse? Was he trying to soften the blow? Or had this horse somehow killed HatGirl, or LaptopGirl, or one of my sisters?

Also, if my heart beat its way out of my chest and started hopping around on the floor, would I be able to catch it before one of my cats did?

Like I said, it took me a second. But I eventually figured it out. Because I'm smart and stuff.

"Oh," I said. "That's not my horse. It belongs to my neighbor. His driveway is right next to mine."

"I see," said the cop. "The house behind yours? Okay, sorry to have bothered you, sir."

"No problem," I replied. "It could have been a lot worse."

I feel like I should write something before I go, so I guess I will. I'm doing this under duress, though.

I don't want to go. I have unfinished business here.

I'll feel better when I get there. I always do. Except when I don't.

This should work. I can do this. I can get my shit done, and still have some time for a reasonable Saturday night, should such an opportunity arise. And my flight doesn't leave until 11:35 tomorrow morning, so I can do the last-minute packing and stuff right before I leave.

Today, I've been doing laundry and dishes. I'm actually almost done with those things. Then I'll probably run a vacuum over my floors, and just make sure that everything is semi-tidy. I don't like coming home to a messy house.

Oh yeah, I've got to go to the store. I need cigarettes and batteries and deodorant. And maybe some cat food, I need to see how much is left in the current bag. Oh, and maybe some shaving cream.

Or maybe I won't bother to shave while I'm there. It's supposed to be a vacation, after all.

By this time tomorrow, I'll be at the airport, maybe even on the plane.

So I went to the place yesterday. Did I write I was going there, or did I just tell RockGirl and HatGirl? Hmmm, looks like I didn't write about it here. I'm such a slacker. Get over it.

I wasn't going to go. I thought that maybe I was tired, so I was going to restrict my errands to stuff close to my house. Go to my bank, go to the store, pay my water bill, stuff like that. But then I noticed that I wasn't tired, so I went to the place. The Dodge dealership in Jeffersonville.

October 14th, also known as that really fucked-up day, started out when I broke the key to my Intrepid in half. No, I didn't do it on purpose, despite what you may have read in the tabloids. It was an accident. A stupid accident, but an accident nevertheless.

Anyway, this was the only key I had for that car. I needed a new key. I called the first Dodge dealership I could think of (Coyle) and asked them if they could cut me a key if they had the VIN. They said that they couldn't do it, but that Bales in Jeffersonville could.

Cool, right?

I drove my not-tired self to Bales yesterday. Immediately, of course, a swarm of salespeople erupted from the building. I waved them off and told them that I just needed the service department. I also noticed a lot of Jeeps for sale, so I emailed LaptopGirl to ask if she'd traded in her Jeep at Bales.

At the service desk things were a little fucked up. The guy took my Intrepid's registration (with the VIN) and went somewhere and did something. Then he came back and said that he could indeed make me a key, but that they didn't have any of the proper blanks. I asked if one could be ordered.

He went back and did some more stuff, and then returned and said that (a) he could order what he needed from somewhere, but (b) those blanks would be eleven dollars each, and (c) there was a minimum order of four. Oh yeah, and (d) cutting a new key from code would be eighteen dollars.

For some reason I didn't feel like spending over sixty dollars for a key. I dunno, maybe I'm crazy.

I told the dude that I'd check out some hardware stores and see if I could find a blank. And then that's what I did. The first place I went had the proper blank, and I bought one. Not for eleven dollars. Not even for five dollars.

Eighty-five cents.

Then I took the blank back to Bales and they charged me eighteen dollars to cut the key.

Still quite a racket they've got going there, but it was a lot better than sixty dollars would have been.

Then I spent some time wandering around the lot, evading the salespeople as well as I could, looking to see if LaptopGirl's old Jeep was there. It wasn't there. It was fun to look, though. I think I had some murky scheme to take a picture of myself with that Jeep and post it on facebook. I don't know why. Maybe it would make her love me. Maybe I was more tired than I'd thought.

Later, I got an email that she'd used a totally different dealership. I didn't bother going there.

Not much that I can say about Friday. I got to see several of my favorite people, including my two most favorite people in the world. There was no drama, and I managed to keep my sadness in-check pretty well.

It fucking rained the entire night, so that sucked. But other than that it was a good night. Especially since that one crazy girl left as soon as she saw me.

Had a nice dinner with HatGirl (Yay!) and her sister at Sportstime, except for that one five-year stretch when HatGirl went outside to talk on the phone. HatGirl's sister and I don't know each other well enough to sit comfortably in silence together.

Oh yeah, and there was a group of very LOUD girls in the next booth, and one of them looked enough like NormalGirl that I managed to convince myself that (a) it was her, and that (b) she hadn't said hello to me for some reason.

So I didn't acknowledge her either.

As it turned out, she had a very good reason for not saying hello. It wasn't her. I became certain that it wasn't her when she stood up. NormalGirl has a much nicer ass.

Anyway.

Tonight it's kinda nice outside. I'm going to go sit in my garage and drink some Barfly and glare at my phone.

It'll be fun!

I'm a little hung-over, thanks for asking. It's just the dehydration kind of hangover, though, not the kind where my hair hurts. So I'm drinking water, and then I'll be okay.

The wasps are back. Not the actual wasps from the Spring. They're all dead. These are new wasps. They're still assholes, though.

This is a snippet of an email I sent RockGirl just now. I don't know wjhy I'm posting this here. Probably because I want to post something but I don't feel like writing anything.

...

So now guess the scenario that my brain has conjured up.

You don't even have to guess. You know me well enough.

And I really was thinking about going to Wick's. Even though it's gay, they have good pizza. I've been craving about 10 things all day, and I haven't made up my mind, and I haven't eaten anything at all. I'll probably starve to death before I decide what I want to eat.

The thing is, I think, that if I go to Wick's then I'll have a beer with my pizza. And if I have a beer with my pizza then I won't feel like going to Jack's. And I kinda think I might want to maybe go to Jack's tonight. I could just go to stupid Bearno's, but I really don't feel like getting food there again.

As I write this, they're still looking for the kid.

I just wanted to say how freaking weird it was for me to be watching the thing on my TV. The footage of the landing that I saw showed a fairly gentle landing. But then people rushed the balloon thingy and started whacking it with shovels and stabbing it with pitchforks.

Because that's what you're always supposed to do when you think there might be a little boy inside. Either those things or the complete opposite. I forget which.

I was surprised that they didn't whip out their firearms and shoot it full of holes.

The other night, Saturday in fact...

First, HotEuchreGirl came in with her friend who's name I can never remember.

I said hello them, and HotEuchreGirl asked how LaptopGirl was doing.

"I have no idea," I answered. Partly because I had no idea, and partly because it was none of her business, but mostly because LaptopGirl gets mad at me when I admit to any knowledge of her existence.

Then, HotEuchreGirl's friend (HEGF) asked, "But aren't you dating LaptopGirl?!?"

Sigh.

Oh yeah, HEGF also bummed a cigarette off me, and hinted that she was very grateful.

Shudder.

Anyway, then NotHideousGirl came in and I gave her a hug and she sat next to me at the island.

I felt either a tap on my shoulder or a hand groping me. I wasn't sure which, and I was a little afraid to investigate.

"So is that your girlfriend?" HEGF asked me, indicating NotHideousgirl.

Sigh.

Then, a while later, we were all sitting at the island. HEGF was sitting next to HatGirl, and I heard her ask HatGirl, "Are you and Dave dating?"

Sigh.

The funny part was that HatGirl answered with, "Actually, I'm married."

Which didn't quite answer HEGF's question, I noticed.

Sigh.

Anyway, WTF was the deal with HEGF prying so deeply into my (lack of) love life?

Shudder.

Also, HotEuchreGirl looked very cute.

Sigh.

This image illustrates that point. Click on it for a larger version. It makes me grin. Especially number three. Yes, I'm a child. Tee-hee.

Anyway, the other night I had a brilliant idea. I was sitting at Jack's with OddlyFamiliarGirl, as that has become something of a Sunday-night habit lately, and I found myself in a familiar dilemma.

See, OddlyFamiliarGirl is very smart, and very talkative. This is a brutal combination. Quite often, I find myself listening intently to what she's saying, but listening so intently that I'm constantly forgetting the things I want to say. Then, when OddlyFamiliarGirl pauses to take a breath, I'm left with nothing with which to fill the silence.

Hence, my brilliant idea.

Frustrated with my nonexistent short-term memory, I asked for a piece of paper and a pen. With those things, I was able to jot down little notes to myself, and those notes were enough to remind me of the things I wanted to add to our discussion when the opportunities arose.

And, this past Sunday, one of the things we discussed was the clitoris.

I think it was Jay, and not Silent Bob, who once asked, "The female clitoris?"

Yes, that's the one.

Then we talked about dreams and other random stuff. It's all in the notes.

RockGirl emailed me that two girls had just gotten into a fight at her work.

I asked the obvious questions.

"Did they rip each other's blouses open?"

"Did they start making out with each other?"

Her answer to both questions was, "I don't think so."

What a boring chick fight.

Q: What's worse than having an 8:30 meeting?

A: When everyone talks about football before the meeting.

I really feel like crap. Really.

It's not even 8:30, and I'm going to go to bed.

Goodnight, cruel world.

I kinda feel like I should say something tonight, but I'm going to hold myself in check, as much as I can. It's probably just the drugs coursing through my veins that are making me want to talk. Sudafed and alcohol. Maybe the two of them together will be able to do what one alone couldn't. Maybe they'll dry out my damn sinuses. So I can sleep.

I didn't sleep for shit last night. Stupid coughing and running to the bathroom to hack into the sink every 10 minutes. It's amazing to me that the human body can produce so much snot.

Gross, I know.

At least my fever seems to be gone.

I'm trying to write an entry this morning. An important entry. And, as I so often do with the things that are the most important to me, I'm fucking it up. I'm putting too much pressure on myself to do this just right and make it perfect. A fitting tribute to my friend, who I found four years ago today.

My phone is magic, see. I think about all of the times that I've sat outside at night, either on my swing or, more recently, in my garage, feeling alone and misunderstood. At times like that, I've been able to type all of my problems into my phone, and then either right away or a few hours later, I get a reply.

Sadness and loneliness go in, and understanding comes out.

My phone is magic.

Sometimes it's not that dramatic. Sometimes I just want to talk about my day. Say that I've arrived at work, or that I'm bored, or that I'm having a cheeseburger for lunch. Stupid mundane stuff like that. So I type those things into my phone, and it makes me feel like I'm sharing my life with someone. Because, in a way, I am.

Magic. My friend is magic.

What follows is the entry that I wrote on this date last year. I think I did a pretty good job. It still wasn't good enough to express everything I feel when I think about her, but it came pretty close.

It usually hits me at night, like most things. I'll be downstairs shooting pool and it'll hit me, and I'll nearly drop my cue. I'll be out on my swing and it'll hit me, and my swing will coast to a stop. Or I'll be reading a book and it'll hit me, and I'll read the same paragraph a dozen times.

I am so incredibly blessed. That realization hits me, and I can think of nothing else.

It might seem like an odd thing, to have a best friend that you've never even met. I suppose it seemed odd to me, back when I first found her. She has become such an integral part of my life, but if I saw her walking down the street I might not even know her. If I spoke to her on the phone it might take me a few seconds to recognize her voice.

It might seem like an odd thing, but it doesn't. Not to me. To me it's as natural as breathing. And just as involuntary.

Three years ago today, that's when I found her.

---

Just got an email from her.

Told her that I'm trying to write this entry, for our anniversary, but that I'm experiencing writer's block.

I think the problem is that nothing I could ever possibly write would be enough. Not enough to even come close to describing how important she is to me. I don't have the words, and even if I did, I don't think I have the strength to put those words together.

I know that whatever I write will fall short of the mark. Trivialize the emotions. Marginalize the gratitude that I feel when I think about her being in my life.

I needed something, three years ago. I needed it so badly that I was dying from the lack of it. And she gave it to me.

Understanding.

Not pity, or doubt, or advice. She didn't try to rationalize what I was going through, and she didn't try to make it all better, and she didn't judge, and she didn't mock.

She understood.

And I went from feeling completely alone in this world, to having an ally. A kindred spirit I called her. And that knowledge, that wonderful knowledge that I wasn't alone, that I wasn't a freak, that I wasn't any of the things I'd been labeled as...

Wonderful.

I began to heal, three years ago on this day. I stopped waiting to die, and began struggling to live, three years ago on this day.

---

Sometimes I think that we take each other for granted.

I relish those thoughts, because they're absolutely true. We take each other for granted because that's exactly what we are.

We will always be friends. We will always be there for each other.

We are granted to each other.

---

Happy anniversary, my dearest friend Teri.

She is a part of me now.

The most important part.

Yesterday, I updated my facebook status thingy to say:

Sometimes, it takes a man's touch. Right, OddlyFamiliarGirl?

I was sitting in a staff meeting - that fact the my life is ruled by meetings is a different story - and my phone rang. The caller was OddlyFamiliarGirl. I couldn't answer the call, of course, because I was in a meeting, but I was able to send her a text that I'd call her back at my earliest opportunity. Right after that my phone chimed again, this time to indicate a new voicemail message.

So, after my meeting, I listened to the voicemail. It said, in part, that OddlyFamiliarGirl couldn't get the door on her Jeep to close, and she wanted to know if I'd take a look at it.

Not many people know that, as a child, I often dreamed that someday I might be able to look at, and maybe even fix, peoples' car doors.

Anyway, once I finally got off work, I drove to the place where OddlyFamiliarGirl was waiting. She told me her door woes, and I went out to take a look.

Not to get too technical, but the latch thingy was extended when it should have been retracted. This was preventing the door from closing.

I pressed my thumb against the door button, watched the thingy retract, and then I closed the door. Then, because I'm nothing if not thorough, I opened and closed the door again.

Then I went back inside and made fun of OddlyFamiliarGirl for a while. That was instead of giving her my bill.

Then I updated my facebook status.

One of my friends, or "chicks" as OddlyFamiliarGirl calls them, read my status and emailed me to ask, "I'm intrigued. What did you do to OddlyFamiliarGirl? Should I be jealous now?"

I replied, "Don't be jealous. I just thumbed her button and made her happy."

It's Sunday. I should write something. Not because it's Sunday, but because I haven't written anything since Friday.

What to write what to write what to write?

I don't even know. I get these little snippets of ideas every now and then, but they hardly ever turn into entries. Usually because they're too stupid.

Like today, I had this thought that the formula for my life had been proven false, and so I was searching for a new formula.

Barf, right?

Even I can do better than that.

So I don't know what to write. In a little while I'm going to eat and then I'm going to Jack's. Maybe after I get a couple beers in me I'll have an idea.

So I didn't go out of town over the weekend. Not unless you count my trips to Louisville on Friday and Saturday nights. And I don't count Louisville, just to be clear. Especially since I don't remember much about Friday night. I think there was Jager involved. Then last night I went to Jack's with OddlyFamiliarGirl, and Jack's definitely doesn't count.

I didn't go anywhere, but I managed to get myself a little refrigerator and some new shoes. So that was cool. Especially the fridge. Get it?

And now I'm faced with a decision. I spent eight months with basically no food in my house because I had no cold place in which to store it. Now I've got such a place, but there's very little room. After filling the thing with beer, there's enough room for maybe a couple of large pizzas, and that's it. The freezer part of the thing might hold a box of Hot Pockets, if I use a hammer.

Tonight I'm thinking that I'll go to the store and get some food. But I don't know what to get. Maybe some cheese.

I never said this would be interesting.

Today, I've got stuff I'm supposed to do. I keep putting it off and I don't want to do it any more.

I need to buy a damn refrigerator. I need to buy shoes - some for work and some for walking.

And, since I'll have a refrigerator, I need to go to the grocery store.

I never said this would be an exciting entry.

LaptopGirl pointed out that today is the first anniversary of the day that my friend WomanRepellant died. I don't feel like writing anything new about that, so I'll just post links to the entries I wrote a year ago.

This first one, I wrote the day before he died, and this one, I wrote immediately afterwards.

So there is flooding, but that doesn't affect my house, because I live atop Mt. Dave.

But something happened. A strong rumble of thunder or something, because the large framed picture that I keep above my fireplace is lying on the floor.

And that's not all. I really wish that was all, but it's not.

Also - and it's going to be hard to write this - also one of my Marzen glasses is broken. It shattered into a couple-dozen pieces.

That glass was given to me by LaptopGirl last Christmas.

So it's priceless and irreplaceable.

Just like she is.

When I was driving to work(!) this morning, there was a storm. It's been all over the news, even the national news. Louisville even made the front page of weather.com.

It rained. A lot. Like six inches in an hour, I think I heard. There was a lot of flooding.

But not in my basement.

So that's cool.

I was up there to work, of course. Because I was, at the time, the only single engineer at my company, I got to do all the traveling. I liked it. I'd already spent half a year in New Orleans, and I'd probably never have made it there otherwise. Double-ditto for Alaska.

My days always began at about 6:00. I'd get all bundled up and I'd go outside to start the car. Then I'd go back inside, take a shower and stuff like that, while the car heated up and the windows de-iced. If I was lucky, I'd be able to do all of this without the old man shuffling down and knocking on my door. He always asked me if I wanted any coffee, but I never wanted any.

During that time of year, the Sun wouldn't make an appearance until 10:00 AM or so, and then it would be gone again by 2:00 PM. Anchorage lies South of the Arctic circle, so it never quite gets down to zero hours of daylight in the Winter, and it never quite gets to twenty-four hours of daylight in the Summer. I know that those four hours of daylight did me a world of good. Just knowing that the Sun was shining outside, even if I couldn't see it from my windowless room.

Anyway, I'd go to work. This particular project was interesting to me, but probably not to anyone else, so I won't dwell on it. Except to say that static electricity and computers don't mix, and that Alaska in the Winter is so cold and dry that static electricity is a huge problem. I felt like some kind of super hero, the way the sparks were constantly shooting out of my fingers.

I totally forgot to mention the snow. There was about three feet of the stuff on the ground. Whatever had fallen since September or so was still there, joined layer-after-layer by new stuff. It was Alaska in January. Of course there was snow. I'd actually been expecting more, but people said it had been a dry Fall.

What got me to thinking about the snow was the seagulls.

You know how, back in the real world, when it snows they plow the parking lots and they usually leave a pile of snow somewhere kind of out of the way? Well, in Anchorage they do the same thing, except the resulting piles of snow are usually two stories tall and fifty feet in diameter.

One day I was standing outside work, smoking a cigarette, and there were some seagulls playing on the wind currents around one such mound. That's the only word to describe it - they were playing. Hovering at the top of the pile, where the wind was strongest, then diving down the other side, sometimes even turning somersaults in the air, and then going back and doing it again and again. It really was a cool thing to watch, and I bet I stayed out there for an hour, wishing I was a bird, because that really looked like fun.

Working all day was, of course, annoying. There I was in fucking Alaska and I couldn't do any sightseeing because it was always dark when I wasn't working. So my excursions to check out the natural beauty of the place would have to wait until the weekend. My weeknights were mostly spent shooting pool at the Billiard Palace. Back then, I would occasionally gamble a few dollars on my pool games. I'd win some and I'd lose some. Mostly I won, I think, except for this one dude who was a lot better than I was but I kept playing him because he was a friendly sort.

Remind me to tell you about all the earthquakes.

It's funny that I'm calling this part one. That implies that there'll be additional parts. But I seriously doubt it. I'm really taxing my brain as it is, thinking about and writing about something that happened so long ago that it's almost folklore by default.

Anyway, it was 1996. Dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and primitive mammals spent their days scurrying to and fro and counting the days until they'd be in charge of things. I know. I was there. I was one such mammal.

I arrived in Alaska on January 2nd. It was my second trip to Anchorage, but the first one of any consequence or duration. I think the previous visit had been in the Spring of 1994, and it had only lasted a few days.

I wish I'd paid more attention. But, back then, I was too busy scurrying. And avoiding dinosaurs. And watching the sky for comets. And being cold.

I've looked at the weather pages on the internet, and I can't find confirmation, but the high temperature that first day was nineteen degrees below zero, according to the television lady. I remember that she was quite cute, as if that matters.

I spent my first night in a hotel. A Holiday Inn or some such. There was a brewpub in the hotel, and they had a pumpkin ale. Back then, I wasn't into beer at all. I mean, I knew that there was beer that I liked and beer that I didn't like, but I hadn't yet formed any theories as to why any one particular beer might be categorized one way or another. I was pretty sure that I didn't like lagers, and I was starting to suspect that I liked ales, but I'd gone no further that those two preliminary hypotheses.

So I had the pumpkin ale, and it was fucking yummy. Unlike anything I'd had before. I had three or four more.

But I digress.

The next day, my coworker arrived. He took over the hotel room, and I moved to the apartment that my company had secured. Fine with me. Mainly I just needed a place to smoke and watch TV and sleep, and an apartment seemed like a better place than a hotel. I don't know why.

The apartment was in the walk-out basement of a house in the center of town. There was a dude living in the house, and I knocked on his door to get a key to the apartment.

Anybody remember the old Captain Kangaroo TV show? Okay, remember Mr. Green Jeans from that show? Well, the dude who owned the house/apartment looked exactly like Mr. Green Jeans. But he didn't act like Mr. Green Jeans. Nope, this guy was between seventy and three-thousand years old, and, because of senility or brain-freeze or something, had the mental capacity of a turnip.

At first, I tried to make myself feel better by imagining that the dude was just a partier who was drunk all the time, but by the third or fourth time that he'd managed to wake me up by shoveling snow at 4:00 AM, I knew better.

I'm digressing again, dammit.

It was fucking cold.

The weather page on the internet is no help, but the hot lady on TV assured me that, for the first three weeks I spent in Anchorage, the high temperature was eighteen below zero. Then, on or about the 20th of January, it shot up to seven below zero.

Woo-hoo!

T-shirts and shorts became the uniform of the day. All over Anchorage, alabaster skin competed with reluctant sunlight in a contest to see which could cause the most blindness. Me, well I continued to dress like a normal person who was freezing to death - a cheechako in Alaskanese - with my coat and glove and boots and the like. I did learn an important lesson that day, though. For me, the dividing-line between cold and fucking cold is at ten degrees below zero.

There is a difference. There really is. At ten below zero, I can function. At eleven below zero, I might as well be a chunk of ice that won't melt until June.

In Anchorage, they say, there are three seasons each year.

Winter lasts from late August until April or so. Next is Breakup, during which the snow and ice decides that it's maybe time to start thinking about melting and forming puddles. The more disgusting the puddles, the better.

The third season is road construction, and that lasts from the end of Breakup until the beginning of Winter, or for about a week and a half during late July and early August.

Wow, I've already written more than I expected, and I haven't even gotten to the good part yet.

Stay tuned for part two if I ever get around to writing it.

Still giving my brain a vacation. It deserves a vacation. These are my fingers talking now. Hi! We're drunk, I think!

Tonight was cool. We built a fireplace thingy in the driveway, and we made a fire therein, and we drank some beer.

These are Dave's fingers, signing off for the night.

Once again, I'm simply letting my fingers twitch against the keyboard, giving my brain a rest. My poor brain, it's been so overworked lately. Trying to fix things or at least figure them out. Nothing to show for all that effort, though. Things are still just as broken and confusing as ever.

---

Anyway, I totally want to go somewhere this weekend. I want to go to Indianapolis, but that would be weird. SassyGirl wants to go to Oregon, but that would be even weirder. Although, I guess if we went to Oregon, we could stop in Omaha and I could see some of my friends there. Like my old friend Mike, who I talked to the other night, for the first time since early 1994. Boy did he have some catching up to do.

---

This week my phone's been ringing off the hook about job opportunities. None have panned-out yet, though. I'm still fairly hopeful. This morning I got a call about a job for which I'm not particularly qualified, but one of my former coworkers is qualified, so I forwarded the contact information around. That was my good deed for the day.

---

Thanks to some informal surveys, I'm now even more convinced that I am not being weird about this. I already knew that I was acting reasonably given the fucked-up circumstances, but it's nice to have confirmation, especially when it's from people who are smarter than I am.

---

I'm starving to death now. I'm always starving, but then I never eat much.

I remember, but I wish I could remember more.

I remember Dad getting Dina and me out of bed, carrying her and half-dragging me to the living room.

I remember the TV, and the grainy pictures thereon. White-suited men bouncing around a white rock-strewn plain. An oddly-stiff flag neither waving nor sagging nor flapping. I remember Mom giggling about something or other, almost uncontrollably.

When they showed that flag, that was the first time I ever saw my dad cry. And it was the last time, for almost nineteen years. Until my mom's funeral.

I wish I could remember more about that night, forty years ago.

But I was just a little kid, after all.

So I went to the thingy. I went by myself, though that wasn't my preference. I'd invited KittenDamsel, but she was being weird. Then I'd invited LaptopGirl, but she'd thought I was being weird. This latter situation almost made me want to just stay home and pout, but then I called BadPickleGirl and she was going. Plus I was pretty sure that SpoonsGirl would be there, so odds were pretty good that I'd have someone to talk to at the thingy. Even better would have been if Eric and Teri would have gone, but they had some reunion to go to. Oh well.

I'd decided that Gumballhead would be my beer of choice for the evening. I was going to drive to Clarksville to get some, but BadPickleGirl said that the store right there in Greenville carried it. Even though I was doubtful, that's where I ended up going. BadPickleGirl was right, Gumballhead was available. So I got a warm six-pack of that and also a twelve-pack of Fat Tire and went to Dina's.

There were, of course, a million people there. Most of them I didn't know. But that was okay. I talked to BadPickleGirl and SpoonsGirl and SpoonsGirl's husband for most of the night. Over the course of about nine hours, I had a couple Fat Tires (1354) and four Gumballheads (1190). I talked to the aforementioned people. I watched the other people. I didn't glare at my phone too much.

And there were kitties all over the place. I got to pet some of them, and the youngest kitten did a decent job of shredding my hand as I played with it. I like kittens.

Usually I like to make an early Batmanesque exit from Dina's parties, so I have time to go to Rich O's. But last night I stayed until midnight or so, and I was one of the last people to leave.

I guess that's it.

So I'm thinking, once again, that I need to get away from here for a night. I get these itchy feet fairly often. The last time was Friday. I was all set to go up to Noblesville for the night. That's where the Barley Island Brewpub is located. I was craving myself some Dirty Helen and some Barfly on tap.

It's so weird that I like Barfly. I don't like very many IPAs at all. I wouldn't even have tried it if she hadn't asked me to. Now it's one of my favorites.

I ended up staying close to home Friday. That happens all the time, too. I get all fired-up about going out of town, and then I change my mind and end up not going anywhere. Right now, I'm thinking that I want to go to Covington, so that means that, in all likelihood, I'll stay home and maybe just go to Jack's tonight.

I stayed at my house last night. A Saturday night, wasted. I'm pissed about that, but it was for the best, I think.

And I'm so damn tired all the time. And I fubared my neck somehow. And I'm all alone.

And blah blah blah and waah waah waah.

No wonder I usually end up canceling my trips. I don't want to go anywhere with me, either.

Sometimes I get pissed. I wish I could stay that way. It seems more normal to me, and it would probably seem more normal to everyone else. Some people might even applaud.

I know that I'm probably jumping the gun. Things fall apart all the time, but I have a feeling that it's not going to happen this time. I'm not sure why I feel this way. Probably a combination of optimism and desperation.

I found myself sitting in my garage last night, planning my route and coming up with a rudimentary itinerary. I gave very little thought to getting prepared, but I never do that. That's not the fun part, after all. That's the part that will suck. Figuring out what to take, what to leave. Who to tell and what to tell them.

Who to invite?

Whoa, where did that thought come from?

I must contemplate this idea further...

I'm thinking that I won't bother writing a blog entry about last night, as the title pretty much says it all.

'Cause I'm all efficient and shit.

And rabid.

And straight, in case the title made you wonder.

So Sunday morning I found myself afflicted with a bad case of wanderlust. I didn't really know where I wanted to go, I just knew it had to be somewhere that wasn't New Albany. I looked at Nashville and Indianapolis and even Chicago, but eventually decided on Covington. It's not a big city, but it's got everything I need, especially distance from home.

I called KittenDamsel and invited her along. She declined, saying she'd had a long night. Then she said she might drive up there and meet me. I took this as "No way am I going to Covington" because that's how my brain works. Oh well. More beer for me then.

First thing I needed to do, however, was buy a laptop. I'll need this for when I travel, whether it's for work or play. When my former employer eliminated my position, they had the nerve to take their company-owned laptop back. Imagine that. So I stopped at Best Buy, looked at their selection, and bought an el-cheapo Compaq that would suit my meager needs. Thusly armed, I drove to Covington. It's only a two-hour drive.

After I'd arrived, and updated RockGirl with my location - RockGirl knows everything about my life - I settled into my usual Covington routine. I checked into the Holiday Inn, threw my shit into the room, and walked across the street to Skyline Chili for lunch. Yummy. Then I walked up to The Cock & Bull for a couple pints of yummy Moerlein OTR (463). While I was there, drinking my beer and watching a baseball game on TV, KittenDamsel called and said she was on her way. Yay!

I had some time to kill, so I went back to the hotel and messed with my new laptop for a while until KittenDamsel arrived. She wanted to hear polka music for some stupid reason, so we drove over to the Hofbrauhaus in nearby Newport and had dinner. I don't like that place. Not only is it too loud, it's too loud with polka music. The food was good, though.

After dinner, we walked across this purple bridge spanning the Ohio River, and dicked around there for a while. Then we drove back to the hotel, parked, and walked up to the MainStrasse area where all the bars are. After that the night got a little blurry. I know that I had three more OTRs (523) and a couple Newcastles (13818) as we walked around to various bars and clubs. It was a nice warm night, but not too warm. It was almost perfect, in fact. Especially the company. We drank too much, but neither of us got sick, so that was good.

Monday morning we were both a little hung-over. Not surprising. What was surprising was that KittenDamsel wanted to go to King's Island, a local amusement park. She'd already called in sick, and I certainly didn't have any reason come home right away, so to King's Island we went.

This was the first time I'd been there since I was 14 or so. It's much bigger now, and maybe not as crowded, and there were no dinosaurs to be seen. It was a fun few hours, except for that last roller coaster that went upside-down and made me queasy.

It was a really nice time up there. I'm really glad that I went, and I'm really glad that KittenDamsel could make it. She almost managed to distract me from thoughts of LaptopGirl. Almost. And I think I almost managed to distract her from thoughts of her ex-boyfriend. Almost.

It was kinda weird to spend all that time with her and then have to drive home separately, but oh well.

Oh yeah, I also bought a case of OTR and brought it home. So that gives me something to look forward to.

I can't remember ever being so tired, even last week with all of the ridiculous insomnia.

We had quite a fun weekend, if I do say so myself, and I do say so. But wow am I tired now.

In fact, I think I'm too tired to think straight, left alone write anything.

One thing I did want to say, though, is that when you get motion sickness from a roller coaster, and then you almost immediately get into your truck and drive for two hours, that motion sickness stays with you for the entire drive. It's not as much fun as I make it seem.

And the other weird thing is that I still don't feel like we're a couple. Probably because we're not a couple. Too much baggage on both sides.

It was a good day. Long, but good. Started at about 4:00 this morning at Denny's, and ending I hope very soon.

I was supposed to have Indian food with HatGirl, but she wasn't feeling well. I was disappointed about not getting to see HatGirl, but I hadn't been particularly looking forward to Indian food, so I guess it all worked out.

Problem was, I'd gotten myself all motivated to leave my house, and so I had to come up with some other reason to do so. I tried to book a hotel room in Covington. I was going to surprise KittenDamsel with an invitation because we were supposed to go there last weekend. But Covington was all booked up. I tried three hotels and there were no rooms available in any of them.

Next I tried to just book a room at the local hotel/casino, but they were booked, too.

Shit!

We ended up going down to the casino anyway. We did some gambling - I managed to turn $100 into about $105 playing blackjack - and we stuffed ourselves silly at the buffet. I was disappointed that their Asian noodle salad wasn't on the buffet today, but their Asian meatballs were, so I stuffed myself on those and kung pao chicken and moo goo gai pan. KittenDamsel had fish, because she's boring and stuff.

There was also beer consumed at their Legends bar. I had some Newcastles (13774) and she had some swill, because she's boring and stuff.

Later, what was supposed to be an hour long nap somehow turned into an almost six-hour nap. We have no idea how that happened. KittenDamsel was extremely late in meeting her friends, and I was extremely behind in my phone-glaring quota for the night.

So we parted company. I went to Rich O's and, after I'd glared at my phone for an hour, felt better. The Marzen (11568) didn't hurt matters either. It was quite crowded at Rich O's, survivors from some beer thingy they'd had in Clarksville. Most of the regulars were there, and some of the irregulars. I didn't really talk to anyone except NotHideousGirl and UPSDude.

After Rich O's closed, I came home. I've been glaring at my phone ever since, so I think I've satisfied my quota. Tomorrow it starts over again.

I'm at Denny's early today, or maybe I'm here late last night. Whatever, it's 3:49 right now, so it's something fucked up.

It's very crowded here right now. And LOUD. At least 90% of the noise is coming from the corner booth, and at least 99% of that noise is coming from one person, a somewhat round girl who I shall call Loudy McLoudandfat. Her cackling is threatening to liquefy my bones. That would be gross.

The remaining 10% of the noise, itself almost ear-splitting, emanates from a group of guys dorks playing some kind of trivia game at the center table. I'm fairly certain that sexual favors are being wagered, and that they don't really care who wins the game, because they'll all get to "win" later in the parking lot. Hint hint wink wink.

And finally, over in the corner, is an old guy, as quiet as I am and probably as miserable as I am because of these auditory assailants.

My plan, such as it was, was to come here and scribble out a quick entry, then have breakfast with DoableGirl. My plan, such as it was, did not include arriving at 3:45 in the flipping morning. So now I've got to improvise. I've got at least another hour to kill, and I don't know if I've got an hour's worth of words inside me, straining to escape. I guess I'll find out.

It's hard to stay in a writey mood in this place. Usually it's too quiet. Sometimes, like this morning, it's too loud. It's weird, though, that I can sit in a bar and write for hours but in this place even 15 minutes seems too long. It's not that different from a bar.

Anyway, earlier tonight I was thinking about my readers. Not any of my specific readers, but my readers in general. My generic readers.

Some of you people have stuck with me for years. Out of habit, possible, the inertia of interest that's long since faded. Or maybe that's not fair. Maybe there's still genuine interest out there somewhere, a curiosity, perhaps, about what exactly the fuck happened.

Those readers, the curious ones, are owed something. There's a debt there. There's always been an unspoken agreement. I write about my life, and people read it. Well, I haven't been holding up my end of the bargain lately, and I know it. The more that people read my irrelevant drivel, the more into the red I sink.

I fear, however, that this is a debt which will never be repaid in full. There are too many things about which I simply cannot write. Too many feelings to be hurt, too many fingers to point, and too much blame to assign.

See, this blog isn't about me, and it hasn't been about me for a very long time. It's been about something else. A feeling or a desire or a question or an answer, all intertwined and all pervasive. Everything that I wrote was about that. Everything, even if it didn't seem that way to those of you reading. And now it's got too stop. It's become just too damn intense.

Luckily, this blog is no longer about that thing at all. Now, it's about trying to survive even as I wonder if I want to survive.

And, as long as I'm being forthcoming, nothing I've written has been written for me, or for you generic readers out there in Internetland. Nope, all of it, every single word that I've written in the last half-decade, has been written to and for one very specific reader. A reader who is probably wondering, as she reads this sentence, "Is he talking about me?"

Of course I am, silly girl. And that also has to stop. Again, way too intense.

Now, where was I going with all this drivel?

Doesn't matter, because my date is here. It's about time. I'm starving.

I'm at Denny's again this morning. I guess it's becoming a habit, though I hope it's a short-lived one. I'd much rather be sleeping, you know, like a normal person.

I came here hoping, after I'd eaten, to write something good, but I ended up eating breakfast with DoableGirl and that seems to have disrupted the flow of whatever creative juices I possess.

Oh well.

Pretty girls should always take priority.

Remember when the glaciers covered all of the land that would someday become Canada, and a lot of the land that would someday become the United States?

Well, right after those glaciers retreated Northward, back to where they belonged, that was the last time I talked to MixedSignalGirl.

Until tonight.

That was exactly what I needed.

I've had this thought sliding around in my head for a few days. It's a slippery bastard, though, and I never can seem to maintain a grip on it. Long enough to recognize it, but not long enough to really get a good look. I suspect that, eventually, this thought will be captured and dissected into a blog entry. But not today.

---

I'm at Denny's again this morning. I got here late, for me. It's 7:15 as I write this sentence. I guess I timed things just right, as I pretty much have the place to myself. I see an elderly couple out front. I bet they're going to church when they leave here. I hope they find what they're looking for.

---

KittenDamsel and I were supposed to go to Covington last night. But then I was reminded that there was a party at my sister's house, for my niece and her fiancé. So I went there instead. KittenDamsel didn't want to go because, she said, she wouldn't know anyone. Well, out of the 7.5 million people there, I only knew perhaps a dozen. Maybe I'll go to Covington today. Maybe she'll take Monday off and come with me. Maybe pigs will fly. We'll see.

---

I wonder what time Home Depot opens. I could buy some 4x4s and some Quickrete and work on my swing. I can't believe I've let it go this long, but I guess I've been distracted. I've never done anything with concrete before. I'm afraid I'll make a mistake and get trapped somehow. A permanent monument to my own ineptitude.

---

I guess there's just no way that I can go anywhere without running away from here. I'm coming to grips with that. I can run, perhaps because I must run. The thought of running away is not what's giving me pause. Nope, it's the stark realization that, by running somewhere else, I'd also be giving up on here. That's what scares me. I'm just not ready to give up, and I fear that I never will be ready.

I've written before that I think fate is a silly concept, but I just can't shake this feeling, this certainty, that there's a reason for all this. A reason that I'm sitting at a Denny's early on a Sunday morning and thinking about her, missing her. This series of events and emotions that was set into motion all those years ago, there is a reason. I just don't know what that reason is. Perhaps its purpose is to destroy me.

So far, so good.

---

The crowd is starting to pour in now. More church people, I bet. I guess it's nice to have faith in something. I can't say that their faith is any more misplaced than my own.

I'm at Denny's again. Couldn't sleep again.

DoableGirl is back. I bet she was hoping I'd be here.

This insomnia is getting very annoying. The hours and days and weeks blur together, just like all of my thoughts. I don't see how, but I'm somehow managing to survive on two or three hours of sleep every day. And sometimes less than that. I wish I could say that I'm getting a lot done, that I'm taking full advantage of all the extra time I have, but I'm not. Unless you count shooting pool. I'm doing a lot of that. But of course I suck because I'm so damn tired.

I wonder what DoableGirl's problems are. I'm sure she's got some. She's not perfect like I am, totally unencumbered by any baggage whatsoever.

I'm at Denny's again. It's 5:15 Thursday morning as I write this sentence. I'm once again wide awake. I still feel like writing - I even blew the cobwebs off my notebook and brought it along - but I still don't have a topic.

I suppose I'll just wing it.

It's much more crowded here now than it was yesterday morning. Not that crowded is at all a fair or accurate word to describe things here now.

Yesterday some hippie dude and I had the entire place to ourselves. Now, there are five of us in the smoking section, and another half-dozen or so in the main eating area. The same hippie dude is here again. Or maybe he's stillhere. I never saw him leave, and he's sitting in the same place he sat yesterday. He's got his laptop and his paperwork scattered all over his table. He's here for the long haul, I suspect.

Moving my gaze around the room clockwise, I next see two old guys, sitting at different tables but each possessed of the same blank stare.

And, directly in front of me at the next table, there's a girl. There's always a girl in my stories, it seems. This particular girl smiled at me when I came in, and I smiled back. Now she's reading on her laptop and I'm looking at the back of her head and trying to remember how pretty she is. Tall, thin, with short brown hair pulled into a ponytail of sorts. Definitely doable, I think, though of course I'll be doing no such thing.

---

Food was good as always. I didn't eat it all, though. Perhaps my appetite has gone the way of my sleepiness. Oh well.

While I ate what I ate and picked at what I didn't eat, one of the vacant-eyed old guys left and the other one got himself a female companion. His wife or girlfriend, I suspect. Good for him.

Also, two youngish guys arrived, and now they sit in the corner booth talking to each other quietly but not quietly enough to keep from disturbing the ambience of this place at this hour.

The hippie dude is still typing away, and the pretty girl is still reading away.

Me?

I'm scribbling away in my notebook, of course. What a silly question.

---

It's 6:00 now, and the sky is starting to lighten. Though I can't hear them, I'm sure that birds are out there tweeting and whistling. And, I imagine, alarm clocks are going off all over the place as normal people begin their days.

I'll be going home soon, though I don't know why. I guess to type this entry into my computer. Not to sleep, that's for sure. I'm having lunch with HatGirl in six hours, and I can't risk missing that. I've flaked on her far too often lately.

I don't know why I go home at all anymore except to take care of my cats.

I've found that, for the last several weeks, that damn place nearly suffocates me with its emptiness. So I leave, all the time. I go to wherever there are people. Not to engage in any conversations, but instead to leverage the pressure of societal expectations as a crutch, to keep myself from falling over, or as a tight wrap, to keep myself from falling apart.

These people who I don't know and don't really care to know, they're some of my best friends lately. I should put them on my Christmas card list, thought of course I have no such list.

---

Well, DoableGirl has packed up her stuff and gone off to wherever girls like her go at times like this.

I suppose that's as good a cue for me to leave as I'm going to get.

I'm stuffed now. The food was fantastic. I should go to Denny's more often.

I told RingGirl that I'm in the middle of a very tough breakup. Funny how words can be both a bald-faced lie and the utter truth at the same time.

Oh, yeah - the ring is a prop, to scare away undesirables.

I managed to get eight hours of sleep. I don't think that I care that they were all during the daytime.

I'd probably have slept longer except my cat Buddy jumped onto the bed and began loudly singing his sad song about starving to death. I got up and dumped some cat food into the bowl - I don't know why they can't do that themselves - and so now I'm awake and up. And the cats are sated and asleep.

I'm thinking fairly clearly right now. It's almost like the human brain needs sleep to help it function properly. Someone should study this - I may be onto something.

Anyway, about that other thing. I'm disappointed, of course. But I got exactly the reaction that I was expecting, so at least shock is off the menu for today. And that's enough about that, I think.

I was going to write a blog entry tonight, I really was. But the damn thing morphed into an email. A personal email.

So I wrote and I wrote and I wrote the email, and then I sent it off. To be read, I suppose. To be believed, I hope. To be understood, well I can't say I'm very confident about that.

But still, two out of three isn't bad.

My Monday night started out pleasantly enough. KittenDamsel bought me dinner (Wendy's) in exchange for me hooking her DVD player up correctly. I'd told her last weekend that she could get a much better picture and 5-channel sound just by using the proper cables and connections, but she played the girl-card, and so I offered to fix things for her.

Besides eating dinner and crawling around behind her entertainment center, I spent a lot of time poking my finger into her spiffy new sunburn and watching it change colors. Mesmerizing.

Then I went to Rich O's. While there, I alternated between glaring at my phone and glaring at the door. Neither activity proved fruitful. After PearlGirl and her boyfriend left, there really wasn't anyone there I felt like talking to, so I picked up my shit and moved to the bar to finish my Marzen (11138). By 9:30 I was really bored, and my eyes were kind of tired from all the glaring, so I left. But then I remembered that there was no place to go, so I went back to Rich O's.

I was having a nice glass of Franziskaner (39) when OddlyFamiliarGirl came in. So that was nice. We talked and whatever. I switched to Diet Coke. I left again at midnight when Rich O's closed.

That's when it got annoying.

I got pulled over. Or, actually, I went to the haunted Burger King and the cop followed me with his lights flashing, so maybe that doesn't really count as getting pulled over. I'm sure he would have pulled me over if I hadn't been stopping anyway.

The guy came up to my truck and asked for the usual paperwork. I gave him my license and, while I was fishing for my current registration, he told me that I hadn't used my turn signal when turning onto Grant Line Road. I felt like calling bullshit on that. I always use my turn signal, even when I'm leaving my own driveway, but I figured it would be his word against mine. Plus, he was the one with the gun.

He asked me, of course, where I was coming from. I said Rich O's. So he asked me, of course, how much I'd had to drink. I said a Marzen (11138) and a Franziskaner (39). Upon seeing the quizzical look on his face, I clarified that I'd had two beers.

I realize that "two beers" is probably the standard answer given by people under suspicion, so I wasn't surprised at all when he had me take off my glasses and follow his pen around with my eyes. I guess that test didn't yield the result that he wanted, because then he went back to his car for five years, and came back and had me blow into a thingy. As I was not immediately arrested, I knew I'd passed that test as well.

I will admit, however, that for a few moments there I was concerned that I might have grossly miscalculated.

And the guy was just doing his job, helping to keep us all safe. I have a lot of respect for (most) cops.

He ended up giving me a ticket for not using my turn signal, and then he sent me on my way.

I'd originally stopped at the haunted Burger King to get something to eat. But the crap with the cop had lasted just long enough, and they were closed by the time the cop left. So I came home instead.

I'm starving. I face this decision every day. I could go to Bearno's where I can get a Newcastle but I don't like the food as much, or I can go to Sam's where I like the food but I have to settle for Blue Moon or Amber Bock.

Decisions, decisions...

I think I'll do Sam's today.

Or maybe Bearno's.

I know that everyone cares where I go for lunch.

So a few weeks ago - I could tell you the exact date, but I'd have to look it up - this chick was hitting on me. I was almost positive.

Well, tonight I became positive, because she fucking did it again. With zero subtlety.

She was unsuccessful.

But it was still nice to know that I wasn't imagining things before.

---

Sometimes there are too many women.

Like tonight, before the drama at Rich O's, I sat at Buckhead having dinner with HatGirl...

HatGirl!

Yay!

...and her equally hot friend PokerGirl, and then BadPickleGirl started texting me about going to some bar I never heard of before.

I had to decline, of course, but I promised to maybe see BadPickleGirl on Saturday.

I'm such a tease sometimes.

---

And then, after the drama at Rich O's with MaybeCrazyGirl hitting on me, YoungGirl called me to ask me to come over.

I declined that offer as well.

I know why I declined, but I don't want to say.

It had nothing to do with her, though.

---

Today I slept almost all damn day. So now I feel like I may never be tired again.

---

It was really packed at Rich O's tonight. I don't know why.

---

I also got to see ImprobablyHotMarriedGirl when I first went in. That was cool. I gave her a big hug and felt a big bump - she's pregnant. So congratulations to her!

---

I might be back typing some more stuff. Or maybe not.

I had to wait until I wrote this entry. And, of course, in the week that's passed since I thought of it, it's become less funny. You've been warned.

I was at Rich O's the other night - I think it was Wednesday - talking to various regulars and irregulars. In that place, I try to steer clear of the usual topics of politics, religion, music and sports. The first two because those conversations always lead to people revealing their stupidity, and the last two because I neither know nor care about those things.

So that usually means that I either talk about beer, or I talk about women.

Women are weird. If you've never read this blog before, then that might come as a shock to you, but trust me - they're weird.

So let's take a guy. But not a regular guy, one instead who has three particular qualities. He's an asshole, and he plays guitar, and he's unemployed.

The thing about that guy, see, is that I absolutely guarantee that he has a girlfriend.

Those three qualities, taken separately, would seem to be either neutral or even negative qualities. But put those three qualities together, and they form some kind of magical sphere - a triumvirate of attractiveness - for the guy. Women find him irresistible.

Weird, like I said. But you can't prove me wrong, because I'm not wrong. If a guy has all three of those qualities, he's got a girlfriend, or at least getting some steady action.

Now, lacking those three qualities doesn't automatically mean that a guy's going to die alone and unloved, but it might. So, in order to foster my own chances of having someone actually cry at my funeral, I'm taking some steps.

First, I'm really not an asshole, though I can act like one at times. I need to do it more often. Recent events in my life have already given me a shove in that direction, so it's only getting easier.

Second, I've been trying to learn to play guitar. For over a year and a half now. I still suck, but not as much as I once did.

Third, I lost my job last Tuesday.

Yes, that's right. I've been made into a victim of this recession, along with another 250 or so people from my old company. So, for now anyway, I've got the unemployment requirement nailed.

Anyway, I had to wait before I wrote about losing my job. My sisters and my niece were on a trip to Europe, and I didn't want to impact their enjoyment. But now they're back, so they can be miserable right along with me.

Last night, I sent RockGirl this email, with the subject of "Yay!"

And yay and yay and yay! I get to have lunch with HatGirl tomorrow.

It's been 17 billion years since I've seen her. *

I'm so excited!

HatGirl flaked on lunch.

That's what it is, annoying. After the shock and the denial, I mean.

Then we walked a mile or so to HatGirl's car, so we could put our extra crap in there and not have to lug it around all day. Next, we walked all the way back to my truck. We walked all the way back to my truck because I'm retarded. I'd left our tickets for the craft beer tent thingy there. When we got back to the parking lot the dude was still admiring my truck. I think he had an erection, but I was afraid to look too closely.

Then we walked back to the riverfront. The craft beer tent thingy didn't open until 2:00, and it was only 12:30, so we went into Hooters where my cousin Jeff awaited. He'd gotten us free wristbands. That was nice of him. We had some Diet Cokes and sat around for a while.

Oh, and we saw TremensGirl and Bubbles walking around, so that was nice.

Once the thingy opened, we got something to eat and then went down this steep-ass hill to the river. We watched the airshow, which was very cool. There was a fucking helicopter doing fucking loop-de-loops. I didn't think that was even possible in a helicopter. During this period I had myself a Gumballhead (534). This is also when the events portrayed in the comic two entries ago happened, so I had myself 14 ounces of Upland Wheat (297), too.

This was about when I had myself another Gumballhead (550). It was yummy.

Anyway, once the fireworks were over, we were going to hang out for a while, but all of the bars closed early, so we went and sat in HatGirl's car for a half-hour or so, waiting for traffic to start moving. Then we went to White Castle then she drove me to my house.

It was a really fun day, and I only missed a certain person a million times, instead of the asstillion times I'd been predicting.

When HatGirl took me to get my truck yesterday, I'll admit that I was a little disappointed that the dude hadn't washed and waxed it for me. I guess I should have just been grateful that it wasn't covered with his semen.

Such a stupid rainy day. Yesterday was almost perfect weather, though, so I guess today should be allowed to be stupid if that's the way it really wants to be.

But this would have been a good day to work on getting my swing fixed, if I could have talked my sister's husband into helping. And if it wasn't raining.

---

Sometime today HatGirl will take me to get my truck from Jeffersonville. I'm sure that will be the highlight of my day.

As things turned out, our transportation arrangements for yesterday were way too complicated. What we did was, (a) I met her Friday near the riverfront, (b) we parked her car, (c) I took her home, then on Saturday (d) I picked her up in my truck, (e) we parked a couple of miles from the riverfront, (f) walked to the riverfront, and then after the show (g) she drove me home in her car, and then today (h) she'll come and drive me to get my truck.

What we could have done, as it turned out, was just drive my truck Saturday, park and walk, and then walk back to my truck after the show.

It's that 20/20 hindsight thing. Next year, we'll know better.

Plus the parking sticker for HatGirl's car cost $50.

---

I may be housing some dogs for a while. My cats will be thrilled, I'm sure.

---

My sisters and my niece are in Ireland now. I'm totally jealous.

---

I need to do laundry.

The first part of the day consisted of work, punctuated by lunch at Wendy's with HatGirl. I only mention that because, after work, I had dinner with HatGirl at Buckhead in Jeffersonville. I only mention that because tomorrow HatGirl and I are going to this fireworks thingy. I only mention that because, as I said a few entries ago, I got to see HatGirl at Rich O's on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Like I've already said, HatGirl is doing one hell of a job keeping me distracted. In other words...

HatGirl!

Yay!

It was funny to us.

I will never get tired of HatGirl, by the way.

So then after dinner - I had a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (607) - I decided to stop at Rich O's. You know, just for a change of pace, also known as a Schlenkerla Marzen (10299).

This is, from right to left, the lovely BadPickleGirl, my lovely self, and the lovely friend of BadPickleGirl who doesn't get a nickname unless I see her again.

Omaha was just too far away, I finally realized. I really wanted to be there, but I didn't want to go there. It's a 13-hour drive, after all.

But I still wanted and needed to go somewhere, just to get away from this situation for a night. So, I went to Covington KY.

The drive up was uneventful for the most part, except for the inevitable slew of emails and texts that always start streaming in whenever I'm driving. I replied to those as well as I could and managed to not get myself killed in the process.

When I was about halfway to Covington, SassyGirl called! We talked for a half-hour or so as I made my way up I-71. She and JauntyGirl are in Las Vegas, of all places. And so, of course, is HatGirl. And StupidGirl, of course, lives there. So three of my favorite women on Earth are all in Las Vegas at the same time. I'm a little surprised that MixedSignalGirl didn't call me to tell me that she was there as well.

And there I was, going to stupid Covington KY.

Once I arrived, I had my usual Covington lunch at Skyline Chili, then drove the short distance (it was raining) to the Mainstrasse area and went into the Cock & Bull bar. Not much has changed since I was last there in November, and that was good. And they still had Moerlein OTR on tap!

Yay!

So I had a couple pints of that (400) and decided that I'd be spending the night in Covington. I hadn't really made up my mind until then. I went and got myself a hotel room and took a nap for a couple of hours.

Went back to the Cock & Bull bar at 8:00 or so. I ordered an OTR, but they'd changed kegs and there was something wrong with it, so I only had a few sips (403) before switching to Newcastle. Then, after my Newcastle (12578) I decided to risk the OTR again. I figured maybe the glass had just been soapy or something. Well, I guess I was right, because my next OTR (423) was just fine.

Switched to Diet Coke and then, once the Cock & Bull got too crowded, I went back to the hotel and tried to sleep.

At 12:30 or so I gave up on sleep and drove home.

It has been proposed that it was weird for me to drive home last night. Perhaps, but I could tell that it was going to be a long sleepless night for me, and I was really dreading driving home this morning on little or no sleep. Better, I reasoned, to just drive home last night when I was still semi-alert. So that's what I did.

I was still awake at 5:00 when HatGirl started texting me from Las Vegas. I didn't complain because (a) it was HatGirl, and (b) I was awake anyway.

I think I finally got to sleep at 6:30 or so. Then I was awakened at 10:30 with an accusatory email.

Still fucking awake.

Las Vegas is so lucky!

So I dropped HatGirl off at the airport, and hung out there with her for an hour or so before she had to go through security. Next, I was planning to just go over to Rich O's because I was meeting BadPickleGirl and some other people at 5:30 or so. But around 4:00 I found myself suddenly starving to death. I mean, I was so hungry that I was actually shaking a little bit. So I went to the haunted Burger King and scarfed down some food. After that I felt better, but my stomach was a little queasy.

I went to Rich O's. I sat at the throne and had a couple glasses of Diet Coke to calm my stomach. I glared at my phone. I waited for BadPickleGirl.

Once they all showed up, it was a pleasant enough evening. I had some glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (10040) and then a Diet Coke. It was nice to be able to talk to some people closer to my own age.

I came home at 10:00 or so, then slept for a couple of hours before sleep once again escaped my grasp.

Tomorrow I want to take a trip.

The good news is that I'm taking HatGirl to the airport in a couple of hours.

HatGirl!

Yay!

The bad news is that I'm taking HatGirl to the airport in a couple of hours.

Days and days without HatGirl!

Boo!

Managed to find some work to do, and that bored me enough that I'm ready to challenge sleep again. I'm mildly optimistic, because I don't have to go in to work today.

Wish me luck!

Anyway, today this one chick noticed this picture on the wall. "So all I have to do is kiss you and I can get my picture on the wall, too?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "And bring all your friends. We'll cover the entire wall eventually."

We never did follow up on that plan. I was too tired, I guess.

---

I just got a haircut, in case you were wondering.

I sent this picture to HatGirl and she asked me if I was okay. I sent it to SassyGirl, and she sent me a picture of her and some girls having fun in the sun. I sent it to RockGirl, and she suggested that I take a nap.

---

Of course, this discussion was all moot, because the elephant is clearly Belgian. The dead giveaway being that it's fucking pink.

She's very pretty, in case you can't tell that from the picture.

So, this may be it for me. If the pictures keep coming, I might not last the day. And it might be worth it.

I told her that it would destroy me.

I'm in shock. That I was so wrong. That everyone else was so right. That it was all a waste of time. That life can be so pointless.

You people shouldn't expect too much more from me here. Not for a while, at least.

I've got to try to digest this. Eat it before it eats me.

If I write anything now, then I'll be cruel, and I don't want to do that.

Just trying something here. This took way too much effort for the result I got.

So Friday I took a vacation day.

I worked for about 13 hours on my vacation day.

I'm doing it wrong.

Now I need a vacation to unwind from my vacation.

I was struck by a small series of thoughts today, as I sat hunched over my liquid lunch (Schlenkerla Fastenbier - 553) contemplating this ridiculous series of rejections that I use instead of a life, and because sometimes I just feel like writing something, I thought I'd write about my series of thoughts.

I guess most of us were young and obnoxious once, except those of you who are still young and obnoxious - get off my lawn, by the way - and even though most of us have outgrown that phase, we still remember what it was like.

Remember how, on warm days, how good it felt to roll down the car windows and crank up the volume on the radio? Or the tape player or CD player or whatever; you know what I mean.

It was impossible to not feel really cool, cruising down the street with your music blaring all around you. People would turn their heads as you drove by, and you'd imagine them thinking, "Now there goes a cool person. He's bringing music to the world. Livening up my boring life. Thank you, cool person."

But the problem is, never once in the history of the world has anyone ever thought those things. The people who drive around with their music blaring so loudly that everyone within a five-block radius can not only hear it, they can feel in their bones and in their teeth as the bass notes vibrate their fillings loose - those people are assholes. I'm also pretty sure that they blow dead goats when they get home.

I never said this would be an interesting entry.

An annoying pattern is emerging.

I need to do something about it, since it's my fault.

---

Hey, you.

Just think. That's really all I ask.

And, if you keep coming up with the wrong answer, think some more.

I'll let you know when you're finally right, if everyone else in your life doesn't beat me to it.

---

It's March now. Cold weather, please go away. Okay thanks.

---

I didn't bring it up, but now that it's been brought up, several times, I'm having a tough time not thinking about it. This is one of the few things about this mess that is not my fault.

So there.

---

I think that's it for now. Funny, I thought there would be more.

Problem is, I fucking hate being lied to.

And so, since I know that the answer will be a lie, I can't even ask the damn question.

And so, it will look like I don't even care.

Happy birthday to me, dammit!

I'm off work until Tuesday!

Taking today off work, which is always nice. Even better is that I'm having lunch with HatGirl.

Yay!

Just took my truck down to the garage and dropped it off. The clutch is fucked - the pedal just falls to the floor when pressed, and it only seems to disengage during the final 1/8 inch or so. I could blame my clutch problems on some stick-shift driving lessons I gave her in the truck a couple of months ago, but I won't. It was, after all, a couple of months ago. And she actually did a very good job except for once on a hill.

So now I'm down to just two vehicles for a while. I feel so poor.

Talked with StupidGirl for a couple of hours last night, until my Blackberry died. We put together some plans for next weekend. I told her that the only thing I absolutely want to do is go to the Freakin' Frog Friday night so I can have an Alaskan Smoked Porter for my birthday.

I'm really starting to look forward to the trip. I wish, in fact, that it was this weekend. This weekend is going to suck, I predict. Stupid Valentine's Day.

Speaking of my Blackberry, I forgot it this morning when I left for work. So I'm frustratingly out of touch with the world this morning. I'll go get my Blackberry during lunch.

One of life's sad truths is that, far too often, one thing must end before another can begin.

In my case, I must die before I can live. I must.

---

My power is out tonight. It's out all over the place I guess.

I've been sitting in my living room, watching a fake log burn in my fireplace. I'm drinking a Schlenkerla Marzen. It's kinda nice.

Fires are always nice until their fuel starts to run out. Then they sputter frantically, flames licking wildly upward, as if by putting on a good show, they can buy themselves some more time.

But it does them no good. After a while, their fuel spent, the flames die. After a while, all that are left are ashes.

I have plenty of fake logs, and it's still fairly warm in my house.

I'll be okay, I think.

Just, wow.

And now, for my next trick, I will pretend that nothing happened.

It's weird. I've been given an infinitesimal speck of hope, and now glaring at my phone has become infinitely more bearable.

Something unexpected happened a little after 6:00 Friday evening. Something welcomed, certainly, just very surprising.

You know how sometimes you're just having a really bad time with things, but then you maybe start to get used to how horrible things are? And then you maybe start to think that there's a chance that someday you might want to live again, if you can only get through this rough patch?

And then something unexpected and welcomed and surprising happens and you forget all about the bullshit?

Well, me too.

And so now, I fear, it will all start over again.

Anyway, it ended up being a good night. One about which I should probably write.

But not now. Now I've got cabin fever. So I'm going to the local casino for a while.

Don't wait up.

UPDATE: I didn't get to go. Other surprising and unexpected stuff happened, and I had to stay closer to home. Oh well.

ALSO: I just extended my Las Vegas trip by one day.

Why did I do this?

Why, thank you so much for asking. That's really sweet of you.

I did this because I'm sick of being such a fucking pessimist all the fucking time.

I want to go down to the Derby City Classic for a while tonight. It should be the last few rounds of the banks tournament. It should be fun.

But, the thing is, it's supposed to snow. Somewhere between four inches and eight feet, depending on which TV station you watch, and I don't really want to get stranded in an expensive casino when I don't have much money.

So I'd get down there and hope it didn't snow and then, if it didn't snow, I'd blame myself. And I like snow. Plus, my sister Neisha would kill me if I made it not snow.

And then there's other stuff. I can't write about the other stuff.

I have a nosebleed.

What's up with that?

I wonder who was more surprised. I called, and that must have surprised her. She answered, and that certainly surprised me.

It's the weirdest thing, how a short time on the phone, hearing a voice, can ease so much tension, erase so many doubts, clear up so many misunderstandings.

I just wanted to know if she was okay, that's all. I didn't ask her to come back. I didn't even ask her if she missed me. I just asked if she was okay, and she said that she was. She asked if I was okay, and I said that I wasn't.

Truth. She taught me its value, and I haven't forgotten.

We talked for an hour or so. It was a lot like old times, except we've obviously both moved on. She's moved further than I have.

It was nice. I really miss her sometimes, but I'm glad she got away from me when she did. Before I'd have hurt her all over again.

Ran across this old post from 2006 last night. It inspired me, but I didn't have any fake logs, so I went to bed.

---

It's been cold here for a week, and rainy all day long, so I started a fire. My first one of the season.

It's a fake log, but still a real fire, so I like it.

There is no sound.

And getting more and more pissed with every passing minute.

People need to leave me alone today. I'm not in the fucking mood for any more bullshit.

I guess things even out sometimes, or they at least try to even out.

Like, I felt like crap all day yesterday, but then I slept like a baby last night.

I even had some good dreams, so there.

It snowed a little last night. Enough to make things pretty and to make the roads slick for a while. I liked it.

---

Spent some time this morning looking at pricing for flights to Las Vegas. I want to go there over my birthday weekend, I think. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have to worry about a place to stay.

---

Last night we had a nice dinner at Sam's. I always end up getting the blackened chicken alfredo, and it's always a little disappointing. This time it was much better than normal. Quite yummy.

---

Then I went over to HatGirl and LuckyFucker's house to drink a couple beers and play some cards.

HatGirl!

Yay!

We played spades, and I destroyed them. That was weird, because I usually suck at that game.

---

I wonder if Sportstime is open today. I'm craving a little pizza for lunch.

Okay, I'm officially sick.

Thanks for caring.

I might be sick.

It's hard to tell for sure. I might have a bit of a sinus infection, or I might be suffering from lack of sleep. Or maybe it's a combination of both.

Felt like crap all day today. I was very excited about coming straight home after work and taking a nap.

The nap thing - it only lasted half an hour before the nightmare came.

This one, I remembered. Usually, lately, I don't remember what it is that jolts me awake, bathed in my own sweat with my heart threatening to leap out of my chest. But this one, I remembered.

That image is burned into me now, so I doubt I'll sleep tonight either. Unless I'm sick.

Fuck, I hope I'm sick.

I did something unusual tonight. Unusual for me, anyway. Others' mileage may vary.

I searched for mouse poop. With my hands.

Let me say that again.

I. Searched. For. Mouse. Poop. With. My. Hands.

Why did I do such a thing?

Thanks for asking.

Because I'm a good guy, that's why. Oh, and also because it was too dark to see and somebody doesn't have a flashlight.

Anyway, I found no mouse poop, or any other incriminating evidence. This was a good thing, I think.

I got to be a good guy without the hassle of getting mouse poop on my hands.

Happy Birthday to HatGirl!

HatGirl!

Yay!

After I got home Friday, I attempted to take a nap. That attempt, of course, failed. By then, I figured, I'd had about eight hours of sleep since the previous Saturday morning.

Yes, I was tired. Thanks for asking.

But I guess I must have hit some kind of wall, like long-distance runners always talk about. I reached a certain point of exhaustion, and not only did it not get any worse, it actually got a little better.

So I was dicking around on my computer, catching up on some of the reading that I'd let lapse during The Week Of Hell. I clicked over to the blog of MrPopular, and saw this entry.

For those of you who didn't feel like clicking, it has a mention about how this dude Mike was selling some bottled overstock and such. But even more interesting than what it says now it what it used to say.

It used to say that the items for sale included some bottles of Alaskan Smoked Porter.

It used to say that, and it doesn't anymore, because of me.

Now, I happened to be wearing pants when I read that Alaskan Smoked Porter was for sale. So the Rich O's crowd was spared the thrill disgust of seeing me run into the place as God might have intended. Not sure that a little public nudity would have made much of a difference, though, as I broke every traffic law known to man getting down there. I think that the trip that normally takes 15 minutes took about 15 seconds.

See, MrPopular has been sitting on these bottles (not literally sitting, I don't think) for a very long time. Every now and then I'd hear rumors about them, but rumors were all they were. Rich O's used to sell Alaskan Smoked Porter, but it's been years since that happened. I could, and did, have that lovely beer every time I went to Las Vegas, but even that luxury had been unavailable for over a year.

So I was excited. And I was also quite fearful that I'd be too late. That it would all be sold before I got there. That's why I broke all those traffic laws, and that's why it was probably a good thing that I was wearing pants when I read about the sale.

What ended up happening was that this server dude and I spent a few minutes looking for that Mike dude. Then, when we found him, I bought every bottle of Alaskan Smoked Porter there was.

Fifteen bottles of ebony ambrosia.

It's out there in my beer fridge now. That crappy dirty old refrigerator. Never before has it served such a noble purpose.

Those beers call to me. I estimate that, if I limit my intake to special occasions, I can probably make those bottles last a year.

But tonight I'm going to have one. As soon as I post this entry I'm going to sit in my detached garage and I'm going to have one.

"What's the special occasion?" you might ask.

It's quite simple, really.

I have fucking Alaskan Smoked Porter, and if that's not special then I don't know what is.

UPDATE: Fucking yummy! The only thing that could have made this beer taste better would have been if I'd been sharing it with her.

Last night I was able, thanks to some unseasonably warm weather, to sit out in my detached garage for a while. I'd found a bottle of Schlenkerla Marzen (6789) in my refrigerator and, what with yesterday having been what it was, I needed to drink it. So that's what I did. I sat on my el-cheapo white plastic furniture, drank my yummy beer, and contemplated the universe.

Much like when I went to the grocery store Monday night, I couldn't remember the last time I'd sat in my garage. It had certainly been a while. And, though the circumstances that led me to sit out there last night were pretty horrible, I suppose that I ended up enjoying it. Sometimes it's nice for me to simply enjoy my own company for a couple of hours.

I just sent RockGirl an email. She'd asked me when I slept.

Saturday night I didn't sleep a wink. I finally got to sleep at about 3:00 Monday morning and slept until 7:00. Monday night I think it was about 4:00 when I finally got to sleep. Yesterday after work I actually managed to take a two-hour nap, then I couldn't get to sleep again until at least 2:30.

This is a boring entry.

I'm not the bum, but I still got the fucking bum's rush.

But that's not the annoying part.

Nope, the fucking annoying part is that I knew this was going to happen, I was warned that this was going to happen, yet I went anyway.

Nobody to blame but myself.

Early Friday afternoon I found myself missing my dad. A little more than usual, I mean. I was sitting in my Monte Carlo at the car wash, so that probably had something to do with it. The next thing I knew I was shivering at his gravesite.

Then to continue down nostalgia's trail I went to this Hitching Post bar in Louisville. It was Dad's hangout in New Albany. I try to go in there each year, on the anniversary of his death, and have a Falls City beer to his memory. Well, they don't make Falls City anymore, but they do still make Budweiser (24), and it's pretty much the same thing.

After a while, the bartender recognized Dad's old Monte Carlo parked out front, and so he figured out who I was. Next thing I knew there were three or four people in there talking about Dad, and they all had very good things to say. So that was nice.

Then this lady and her hot daughter came in and sat with me for a while. The mom said she'd met me before. I didn't remember it. The daughter kept making goo-goo eyes at me, and we made half-assed plans to go out sometime. I doubt that will ever happen but, just in case, I've dubbed her GooGooGirl.

The first thing we were going to do had maybe a zillion-to-one chance against it. But we were going to do it. As of late Wednesday night, we were going to do the first thing, and I think we were excited about it.

The first thing got cancelled Thursday morning. I was very disappointed.

The second thing we were going to do had perhaps a million-to-one chance against it. But we were all set. It was going to happen. After the first thing, we were going do the second thing.

The second thing never happened, either. I was disappointed.

The third thing, well the odds against the third thing were incalculable. It, of course, didn't happen except in my head.

The fourth thing, we got to do. It was nice. So it ended up being a good Thanksgiving.

I think I'm supposed to write something now. What, exactly, I'm not sure.

---

I had a very good evening.

---

I'm sober, but I'm not really sure how I managed it. I had a Newcastle (11787) at lunch, then a Schlenkerla Marzen (6592) before dinner, then three bottles of Barley Island Barfly (286) and a bottle of Barley Island Dirty Helen (484). I should be shitfaced, but I'm perfectly fine. Weird.

---

As I was driving home tonight, I saw a very bright shooting star, and I gave my wish to LaptopGirl. I hope she uses it wisely.

---

Today I had lunch with HatGirl.

HatGirl!

Yay!

She's such a good person. One of the best.

---

Sometimes I wish things weren't so lopsided. Because then I'd not only know exactly what to do, I'd actually be able to do it without it being weird.

---

There's been this hole in my soul for a long time. During times like tonight, when that hole is filled, I feel like a real person for a while. And then there was another hole. One I didn't even know about, and a little kid snuck right in and filled that hole like it was never even there.

---

Sometimes I can imagine myself being happy. It's nice, when I can do that.

---

I think I'm tired. I won't know for sure, though, until I go to bed. I guess I'll try that now. Long day tomorrow.

They were all wrong. All day and all night, the world seemed out of tune or something.

I've been accused, several times, of overthinking things. I can't really dispute that, but at least I do think. Willy-nilly may be fine and dandy for some people and some circumstances, but not for me, and not when people much more important than me are involved.

Do what you're here to do, then get the fuck out.

That's what the vibes told me, and so that's exactly what I did.

Happy birthday to LaptopGirl!

Yay!

I'm so glad you were born, you sweet, sweet girl. The world is a much better place because you're in it. And I'm a much better person because of you. I think I'm a person, period, because of you.

Happy Birthday to my sister Dina!

Yay!

I always like this period after her birthday but before mine, because our age difference is lessened, and so I don't feel like I'm so old.

I just had to go and be in a good mood. And, not only that, I just had to go and announce my mood to everyone.

Four hours later the universe started punching me in the gut again, and it hasn't stopped, and there's no end in sight. Not that there ever was an end in sight, but I'd allowed myself to forget that for a while.

That was stupid of me to forget. But, apparently, not impossible. Because I keep fucking doing it.

Also, I got to have lunch with HatGirl today.

HatGirl!

Yay!

This was our third attempt since Friday to do this. Friday she was sick, and Monday I was swamped at work, but today everything worked out just fine. We ate at While Castle. She made me forget my troubles for a while. I think I might have actually smiled, once or twice.

HatGirl thinks I'm awesome. That's nice of her to think that. I wish I believed it.

Work yesterday was fun. I'm on-call this week, and all hell broke loose Sunday and spilled over into Monday. I like dealing with technical problems like that. Much more fun than shuffling paperwork all the time.

Then I had a good evening. Of course I had a good evening. That which had been missing from my life, it was back. So that was cool.

Then all hell broke loose at work again, and I had to deal with that. It wasn't as much fun as it had been earlier.

Anyway, to review:

Pizza Hut Meaty Marinara = tastes like Chef Boyardee.
Schlenkerla Marzen (6396) = yummy.
Barley Island Barfly (170) = good.
Harpoon Winter Warmer (254) = yummy.

I absolutely did not forget.

Happy anniversary, sweet girl.

Tuesday night seems like such a long time ago, but I'm going to try to write something, and Tuesday night would be a good place to start, I suppose.

The entire day pretty much sucked, what with my cat dying and all. I also didn't get to see her at all, and even email contact ended abruptly at 5:30.

So, I went to Rich O's. On a Tuesday night. Weird, I know.

At first I sat in the throne, but people kept trying to talk to me, so I moved to the island once it had been vacated. I had a Schlenkerla Marzen (6193) and a little pizza. I did my best to hold myself together, and I suppose I did okay for a while.

Then people came and joined me at the island and started talking to me. Being too unmotivated to pick up my shit and move again, I stayed put where I was.

Oh, and by people I mean ElPresidente and FirstLady, though some other people stopped by from time to time. I spent most of the next four hours talking to ElPresidente - a conversation which can be summed-up as follows:

ElPresidente: You're still whining about that?

Me: Yes. Yes I am.

ElPresidente: Idiot.

And so it went. But it was still lots better than going home and having to watch my remaining cats search in vain for their missing friend. And I even had another Marzen (6210) to help take the edge off things.

Wednesday was, by my estimation, a million-bazillion times better. I was still sad about Happy, of course, but I found myself a very nice distraction. I didn't get to eat lunch, but I got to see her and play Santa Claus to her son, so it was a very fair trade.

After work I went back to Rich O's. I had myself a Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar (243), then I bought a growler of it to take with me. For the second time in only a few hours, I got to be distracted from this bullshit I use for a life. We had this alfredo stuff from Pizza Hut that I thought was very good. We each had a couple glasses of the Rogue (273).

Then on the way home I stopped at Rich O's again. I had a Marzen (6227) and had a nice little email conversation. I also had a nice actual conversation with OddlyFamiliarGirl, who surprised me by still being alive.

OddlyFamiliarGirl said some very nice things to me, and made me feel like an actual decent person. So that was nice of her.

Anyway, then I came home and successfully avoided calling out Happy's name when I walked in the door.

Yesterday I was going to write a long entry about my dead cat. I didn't write that entry, though someday I might. Also yesterday I wanted to write something about my dad. Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of his death. I didn't write that entry either.

Truth is, there's still only one thing on my mind these days. I am consumed by it, but I can't write about it.

Sucks to be me.

The call was a strange one. Not that the situation could ever be considered normal. Not by me, anyway. The vet probably makes calls like that a lot.

She got the results from Happy's blood tests. Not good. His kidneys were almost completely failed. He'd lost almost eight pounds since he was last weighed in September. And most of that weight loss was muscle mass. He was not diabetic, and his condition wasn't contagious to my other cats.

There wasn't any hope for long-term survival - that's pretty much what she told me.

Then she told me that he'd gone into cardiac arrest and died this morning when they were treating him.

Seems to me that she could have told me that in the first place.

I'm really not trying to be funny. It's just that this is going to hit me pretty hard before too long, and I wanted to write something before I lost my mind.

It would have been eleven years, on New Year's Eve. That's not nearly long enough.

We did end up hanging out for a while Sunday afternoon and evening. I can't write about that, though, except that I had a Barfly (140).

I've been saying that I've got this mood that I can't seem to shake. Well, that was wrong. It's not a mood that I get into, it's reverting to normal. That's why I haven't been able to shake it. Because it's not a mood at all, it's the way I am now. Instead of being a happy person with occasional bad moods, now I'm quite the opposite.

Anyway, after I'd reverted to normal last night, I stopped at Bearno's for a Newcastle. The keg blew, but the dude did manage to get most of a glass poured (11638).

Then I came home.

My cat Happy is very sick. He's going to the vet this morning, and I fear that I won't be bringing him home. I guess I'll know more by 11:00 or so.

I had a couple bottles of Newcastle (11662) last night while I tried to comfort Happy.

Well I ended up not taking a trip yesterday. The same lack of motivation I'd had about writing kept me from making up my mind about going anywhere until it was too late. So I just dicked around the house for the most part.

Then last night I got to do some stuff I can't write about, I guess except that I had a Marzen (6152) and three bottles of Barfly (128). And I think I did a pretty good job of keeping my thoughts where they belonged.

Today we might do something. Or we might not. It's kinda hard stupid to plan anything more than about five minutes ahead of time. As proof of that statement, I offer yesterday, and next weekend, and probably Thanksgiving. But it's okay. Spontaneity has its charms sometimes, and being penciled in is better than nothing.

A pen would be nice, though, every now and then. It would be nice to be worthy of a pen. The dipshit gets a fucking pen.

I'm supposed to write in this thing. That's pretty much what it's here for. Some days it's really hard to get motivated, though. That's what today is. I just don't feel like writing. Because of that, this is going to suck.

My life is a fucking lie. A play in which I'm forced to perform, and they forgot to give me my lines.

Lunch at this weird Lynn's Paradise Cafe place was nice. A little strained, I thought, but that's to be expected, what with everything going on and what with me being in this damn mood that I can't shake.

After work I tried to take a nap. It didn't take. I think I'm overly tired. Two or three hours of sleep per night for a week will do that to a person.

So then I went to Rich O's. I'd thought it might be a short visit, because sometimes I forget that hope is stupid and that I should stop having it. I ended up sitting at the kiddie table for four hours talking to OtherDave for a while, and ActualGeorge for a while longer. I tried to talk HatGirl into coming, but she was busy or sick of me or something.

I had a couple glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (6135), which were quite good. I had a drawn-out email conversation, and that did help to make me feel a little better.

I stopped at White Castle on the way home. My jalapeno cheeseburgers were very yummy.

Oh yeah, remember how I found out yesterday that MixedSignalGirl wasn't dead? Well, last night I found out that NotHideousGirl wasn't dead, either, because she came in to Rich O's. So that was nice. And I got a couple of text messages from SassyGirl, and she wasn't dead either. I miss SassyGirl. I think I miss just about everyone. My own damn fault. I've almost totally isolated myself.

I want to take a trip today. I need to get away. But I probably won't.

Just a quick note to say that MixedSignalGirl isn't dead, and that I'm glad.

I called her this morning, sorta breaking our rule about things like that, but they had this big blizzard up where she lives, and I needed to know.

"Hi, Miss! Are you dead from the blizzard?" I asked.

"Nope, just driving to work in regular snow, not blizzard snow," she answered.

"Well, I'm glad you're not dead," I offered.

"Me, too," she replied. "I'll be sure and let you know if I die, though."

"Fair enough," I said, and then we chatted for a couple of minutes before we ended the call.

Anyway, whew!

The rest of Wednesday consisted of spending all afternoon in one of the saddest moods I've had in months, then spending the evening pretending that everything was fine. Until, eventually, thanks to a little kid mostly, everything was fine. What a delightful child. His mommy is kinda neat, too, for a jailer.

But eventually, the cage walls started closing in on me again, and I made a graceful escape. One made a bit less graceful because of my Blackberry. Upon leaving, I sent an email saying that I'd had an overwhelming urge to give her a foot massage. But my Blackberry, in a fit of stupididy, had interpreted my typing of the letters f-o-o-t as d-o-o-r instead.

Now, I don't really know what a door massage is. Sounds pretty kinky. But I bet I'd give a good one, and make her forget all about the dipshit.

On the way home, I stopped at Rich O's and had myself another Marzen (6101) and ordered a pizza to-go.

Got to have lunch with HatGirl today. Our lunches are always so chaotic, at least the last two have been.

HatGirl!

Yay!

Anyway, we ended up at White Castle. It was a little weird, eating there in the the middle of the day and completely sober, but the company was nice, of course. HatGirl is a genuinely good person, and to prove it, she spent an hour alternating between listening to me gripe and trying to think up reasonable excuses to explain the way I'm being treated.

After that lunch, I took another lunch and went and talked to WeirdGirl for a bit. We'd had this crazy idea in our heads, but after we talked about it for a while, we decided that it was just too crazy, and not worth the trouble it could cause. I'm relieved, I think.

I've had this stupid little nagging thought in my head for the past couple of days. I've had it before over the years, but I've always been able to ignore it until it went away.

This time, the damn stupid little nagging thought is being stubborn, and I'm not sure that it's going to go away. Because it might be right.

---

Today it's supposed to be really nice outside. Like 76 degrees. I'd walk to The Pub for lunch, but there's no point, because there are no beer sales until the polls close.

---

Sometimes I have to ask myself how things should proceed, if they proceed. I mean, if they're allowed to proceed to their logical conclusion, how should it happen? Slowly and deliberately, or as quickly as possible, to get the inevitable out of the way?

Sometimes it's really surreal that these aren't completely hypothetical questions.

---

Damn, I was supposed to pick up a case of Moerlein OTR when I was in Covington, but I forgot. Oh well, it's close. Maybe we can go up there together some weekend.

---

I forgot to set my clock back, so I got up an hour early this morning.

...I'm back home, and I still don't give a flying fuck.

Lot of that going around these days. Maybe it's contagious.

You know what?

I have absolutely nothing left to say.

I've said it all. Over and over and over, I've dissected myself.

My words were wasted.

The problem was the dust. It got into everything, onto everything. The color of brown sugar, the consistency of baby powder, it settled and stuck to everything it touched, Which, like I said, was everything.

So many of my stories begin and end the same way. I sit at the bar, I drink, I pay, and I leave. But sometimes there's more to it than that. Hiding in the crevices, there might be much more than that. The first problem is noticing. The second problem is giving a shit.

But seriously, where did all that fucking dust come from? I think I'd have noticed getting so lost in Wyoming that I ended up on Mars.

My beer tasted like dust. My cigarettes tasted like dust. Luckily, I wasn't hungry, or I'd have ended up with a burger that tasted like dust.

This particular day, I wasn't in much of a hurry. I had a week to make it to New Orleans, and I figured it would only take a couple more days at most. So I decided to stop at noon, in this little dustbowl of a town in Wyoming. There was no particular reason that I picked that particular town. No charming name or majestic scenery caused me to veer off the highway where I did. Or, I think that maybe I just had to pee. I wish I had a better reason, but sometimes you've got to take what you've got and try to be happy.

I liked that little town, though. And that little bar. It was pretty much the opposite of every place I'd ever lived, and that had a definite appeal to me. I could even see myself living there for a while, if the opportunity presented itself, and if it wasn't for that damn dust.

"After I lived here about five years, I stopped noticing it," the bartender told me.

He had a little black nametag pinned to his brown flannel shirt. That nametag might have been the most expensive decoration in the entire place.

"Dusty," it said.

So she asked me if I was mad. I'm not mad, I'm retarded. Big Difference.

And then, I went to lunch at The Pub - Newcastle (11498) - and surprise! It was a bonus AlliDay!

And then, desperately craving interaction with a girl who doesn't make me crazy(er), I arranged to have lunch with HatGirl this Friday. That should be very nice, as it's been a long time since it's just been just me and HatGirl. What with the whole her-getting-married and stuff.

Also, I can't follow my own fucking advice, so why should it bother me that nobody else follows it? I'll tell you why. Because I don't have a choice in the matter.

I've got all this damn pumpkin beer in my fridge, and now I don't know what's going to happen with it. Worst case would be that I'll drink it, I suppose. By myself. Like a chump.

Also, I think I'd be pretty pissed if I were a pigeon. I mean, being able to fly would be cool. But the rat with wings nickname would get old very quickly, and I'd really be pissed off about not being able to take a step without my head jerking back and forth like I was having a seizure or something.

Also, I really and truly don't think there's any cruelty behind any of this. I don't think my strings are being yanked just to watch me dance. Unfortunately for me, the results are exactly the same no matter what the intentions might be. I end up looking like a jackass, and everyone gets a good laugh out of it. Everybody except me, that is.

I need a nap.

And a vacation. Mustn't forget that.

I'm not really sure what I was expecting at the reception, I just know that it wasn't what I found.

I think maybe I thought there'd be more of HatGirl's and LuckyFucker's friends there. But it seemed, to me at least, to be about 99% family members. Not that there was anything wrong with that, or that it was a bad thing. It just wasn't what I was expecting. I guess I'd figured that NotHideousGirl would at least show up, and so I'd have somebody to talk to.

Anyway, I arrived pretty much right on time. The guests were gathered out on the lawn of the place. I'd seen HatGirl and LuckyFucker waiting around the side of the building, but when I tried to go say hello I was shooed away. Apparently there was an agenda for the thing, and that agenda did not include guys from the bar talking to the happy couple before the scheduled time. Not even guys as awesome as me.

So, I waited on the lawn with everyone else, like a chump. Eventually, the bridal party had a little parade, and they ended up on the steps where they had this candle ceremony. Then they had another parade, except all of us guests followed them this time.

The bridal party stood at the back door and greeted all of us guests. So I finally got to say hi to HatGirl.

HatGirl!

Yay!

Oh yeah, LuckyFucker was there, too.

And I think that was just about the last time I saw either of them, except as blurs, until it was time to leave.

I never did get to have that dance with HatGirl. It was weird. It seemed to me like the DJ took off running down the sidewalk about a minute into the first song. I have no idea what that was all about.

Oh, I almost forgot! I caught the garter!

Apparently, that means that I'll be the next guy to get married. And this one four-year-old girl caught the bouquet, so she'll be the next girl to get married.

Should be an interesting race.

I didn't really get much accomplished yesterday. I went to Home Depot to get some lumber for my swing but, while I was there, I kinda lost all motivation for everything. So I just came back home and shot pool for a while.

Then at 3:00 I went to Bearno's for something to eat and a couple glasses of Newcastle (11456). For a while, I was the only customer in the entire place. That was perfectly fine with me.

Traded a few emails with her, and that put me back into a good mood until the subject changed. Then my mood deteriorated very quickly. I said some things that were unwelcome, I'm sure. But, like I keep telling myself, if I'm going to ruin this, as least it will be with the truth. Sometimes I wonder if the two of us are strong enough to hold something this lopsided together. Or if she thinks that it's worth the effort.

Later I went and picked up this Blue Moon Pumpkin Ale (24), which was new for me.

Blue Moon Harvest Moon Pumpkin Ale

(bottle) Clear light amber. Large whitish head. Not much of an aroma or flavor with this one. Everything was very subtle - too subtle. I don't think I'll bother with this again. Decent is all I can say.

Anyway, other than having a couple bottles of that beer, and watching some movies, I had a nice phone call that I don't think I want to write about here. I went to bed fairly early and slept for 10 hours.

Today is HatGirl's wedding reception. As was expected, I will be going alone. But it should still be fun to see HatGirl in her wedding dress. I hope she remembers that she was supposed to learn how to dance, so she can give me a quick lesson before I dance with her for real.

I suppose that a brief beer report is in order. I did, after all, go to Rich O's last night. I bet I could count on one hand the number of times I've been in there, on a weekend night, in the last three months.

Anyway, I wasn't planning to go, but my sister called to say that she and her husband were there. So I went.

It was extremely crowded and LOUD. I ended up standing by the bar, talking yelling with Dina and Kenny. I had two and a half glasses of Marzen (5902). By the time Dina and Kenny left, my mood was shot to shit. I tried to hang out for a little bit longer, but there was no sense in it. I came home around 10:00.

---

Last week I was going to buy some wood to start repairs on my swing. But while I was cutting some rope, I ended up slicing my finger instead. Today, my plan is to go and finally buy that wood. I'll probably manage to amputate my leg somehow.

The last time we went to this hippie place for lunch, it was a huge surprise. The having lunch together part, not so much the hippie place part. This time, it was still a surprise, just maybe not as big, because this time, I'd invited her to lunch.

Another surprise was getting the shit beaten out of me by a two-year-old.

The food was decent. The company was extraordinary. Even the two-year-old.

Can't write about this until later, but I'm mildly freaked out.

---

Okay, so today after I ate lunch I was on the upper level at Fourth Street Live, where NotHideousGirl and I used to sit and smoke after lunch. I wasn't sitting today, but I was smoking. I was also watching people, like I usually do.

You know how you can recognize your own car, even if you see just a tiny portion of it? Like when you leave a store, and the parking lot is packed, and you don't quite remember where you parked? But you can look across the parking lot and see maybe a flash of fender or something, and you immediately know it's your car?

Yeah, well today I was watching people walking up and down Fourth Street, and I saw out of the corner of my eye a glimpse of blonde hair. I saw that hair, and I immediately knew who it was.

MixedSignalGirl.

She was walking into T.G.I. Friday's just like she did it every day. Just like she hadn't moved a million miles away. Just like she had every right to be there.

She was with some dude. I assumed this was her new husband. I didn't actually see any dicks in his mouth, because I was pretty far away, but I'm sure they were in there somewhere.

I absolutely froze. I had no idea what to do. I was pulled equally between running away from her and running toward her. So, like I said, I froze. My legs simply would not move. But I somehow managed to get my arms and hands to work, so I emailed RockGirl that I might be dying, and then I called MixedSignalGirl.

I really had no idea what I was going to say. I guess I figured I'd just wing it. I got her voicemail, stammered out that I'd been thinking about her, and hung up.

And so began the wait.

---

Just got off the phone with her. Everything is fine - I'd been concerned that her mom might be sick. It's just a regular visit.

I hadn't wanted to write anything here until I'd talked to her. I didn't want her to read here that I'd seen her and hadn't immediately run down to say hello. Of course I told her about that on the phone, though.

It's all good.

I doubt that we'll see each other or even talk again while she's here. Not unless her husband wants to spend an evening at a gay bar or something, thus giving her some time to kill.

Happy birthday to my youngest sister, Neisha!

See, I am capable of remembering some things.

What a crappy day Monday was. I'm glad it's over, but I can't really say I have any expectations that Tuesday will be any better.

Fuck, I hate being so dependent on, and reactionary to, outside stimuli.

Also, I managed to tear the cut on my finger open tonight. So that's another pint of blood I'll never get back.

I was going to write an entry about my fun Saturday, but instead I decided to slice my finger to the bone. And now I can't type very well at all. So, for now at least, you people will be spared.

It was a really good day, though.

Maybe a picture can be worth a thousand words.

I guess today kind of sucked. I don't think it was really a bad day, but compared to Thursday, it sucked. As would most days, compared to Thursday.

This chick who looks disconcertingly like MixedSignalGirl was working at The Pub, after having been fired for the last month or so. Plus, she insisted on talking to me the entire time I was there trying to enjoy my Newcastle (11280). So I was in a pretty shitty mood from about 12:00 on, then after work I had a couple of weird dreams. One was a sad dream, and another was very frustrating and confusing. So I woke up from my nap in a even worse mood than before.

For a while, there seemed to be a .0000000001% chance that my day might end really well, but instead I sat here at home, had a Rogue Chocolate Stout (2669) and a Barley Island Dirty Helen (436), glared at my phone, and wished for about the asstillionth time that things were different.

Also, it turns out that I don't need to feed HatGirl's critters on Sunday, as had been planned. That's the good news, I think. The bad news, I think, is that I need to go to the airport at 11:50 Saturday night to pick her and LuckyFucker up.

It will be really nice to see HatGirl again, but my grand plans for drinking beer and glaring my phone tomorrow night are shot to shit.

I'm not sure I should say anything about lunch. I guess I'll say that I had some yummy Thai chili linguini, and I sneaked a couple won-tons. Oh, and I had a Newcastle (11240).

Later in the afternoon I had a stupid meeting that ended up being not stupid, because I was the only person who showed up. So, that was nice.

I'd driven in to work on fumes, and so I had to stop and get gas on the way from work to HatGirl's house. I got $20 worth of gas, got back into my truck, and turned the key. Imagine my surprise when, as a result of my turning the key, absolutely nothing happened.

I was in a pretty bad part of Louisville, I think. So I was quite relieved and a little surprised when this one lady gave me a jump-start instead of murdering me for drug money.

At HatGirl's, I left my truck running while I fed the critters. Still haven't seen that damn kitty.

Then on the way to Rich O's I stopped and paid $150 for a new battery. For that price I assumed that my truck would be capable of flight, but nope, it's still ground-bound. Oh well.

At Rich O's, I had a couple glasses of yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout (2647). I was going to have just the one and then go home with my pizza, but NotHideousGirl and OddlyFamiliarGirl came in. And this time they didn't totally ignore me, so yay!

Once I got home, I took a nap. Then when I got up I nuked a couple hot dogs. Because I'm stupid and completely forgot about the pizza in my fridge.

And now I'm having a Three Floyds Gumballhead (263). I tried to sit out in my garage with my beer, but it's too freaking cold.

Today was the fifth day in a row that I've gone to HatGirl's house to take care of her critters, but I still haven't seen the kitty even once. I do, however, know that the kitty is still alive because I set treats out each day and the next day they're gone.

---

I get so sick and tired of people trivializing my problems and expecting me to act normal all the time. I do good to get out of bed in the mornings. Anything more than that is a bonus.

---

Tonight I had a nice long talk with my dad's ghost. It took some doing, and a couple bottles of Three Floyd's Gumballhead (215), to conjure him up, but I eventually succeeded.

It was a really nice conversation.

---

Every now and then I'll be driving - it's usually in Louisville - and I'll see some random young man walking down the sidewalk, using one hand to keep his super-loose pants from falling down.

I always wonder what kind of a terrible life that must be, the constant pressure that must involve.

Stretching an analogy almost to its breaking-point, I kinda do the same thing as those random young men.

Except that it's not modesty that I'm trying to preserve. Nope, it's my sanity.

I walk through life desperately clutching to pieces of myself that threaten to fall to the ground.

And shatter.

The shattering part is where the pants analogy breaks down. Because pants don't shatter, unless they haven't been washed in a zillion years, and that's an entirely different problem.

---

You know what's really nice to hear from the love of your life?

"Well, I wouldn't say you were the worst person ever."

That's what's nice to hear. Hope springs eternal, and all that.

---

Also, people who don't like the way I am should stop trying to guilt me into being something else. It won't work.

Empathy does not require understanding or agreement. Those are common misconceptions, but those things really are irrelevant to empathy.

Empathy can stand on its own and do just fine.

---

For those keeping score at home, I still haven't renewed any of my vehicle registrations. They were already closed on Saturday when I got there. They were closed today, and they'll be closed tomorrow. So I get to drive around illegally until Tuesday.

Fun!

---

That's it for now. I need to go out to my garage and glare at my phone for a while.

I think all I want to say about tonight is that I was held captive by two hot young women, and that I had fun.

---

Oh shit! I totally forgot to renew any of my vehicle registrations. All three expired the 15th of September. I'll have to see about at least renewing the registration on my truck tomorrow, if I have time.

---

I think what's happened is that I've crossed some kind of sleep-deprivation wall. Kind of like marathon runners will reach a certain point and then running is supposed to become effortless. Well I should be very tired right now, but I'm not at all.

---

My brain is really rambling. You readers are lucky that so little of the rambling is making it to my fingers.

---

I want to go to Antarctica, and I don't want to take myself with me. I don't know how to do that. Or, maybe, I want to go to Antarctica with myself, but then return without myself. I don't know how to do that either. Either way, though, I want to go to Antarctica.

---

Another thing about tonight is that I had a Shiner Bock (17) and a Barley Island Barfly (56). Or maybe that's two other things about tonight.

---

Sometimes a helping hand is exactly that, and nothing more. Sneering at it will only lessen the probability of it ever being offered again.

---

If I had any sense at all, I'd do something. What, exactly, I don't know. Because I don't have any sense at all.

---

I suppose I should go stare at my bedroom ceiling for a few hours. Goodnight, world.

What a stupid night.

I'm sitting here at 1:45 AM, watching backup jobs run. Or watching them try to run. Stupid things keep failing.

And I'm not even supposed to be on-call tonight, so it's extra stupid.

Meanwhile, I guess I'm having a bit of a crisis. So it's kind of hard to think about work.

I got a very nice surprise today.

An unscheduled AlliDay!

I don't think I'd seen AlliGirl in over a month, and even then she'd been too busy to really talk. But today, I walked into the pub, expecting to see the same boring Wednesday people that I've been seeing for months, and instead I saw some legs. And a shock of blonde hair peeking from under a baseball cap. And, once I got close enough for her to recognize me, a mischievous grin.

AlliGirl!

And, it wasn't too busy in there today, so after the mandatory hug we got to talk for quite a bit and do some catching up.

It was really nice to see her!

Oh, yeah, I had a Newcastle (11106) for lunch.

Then, back to work.

Then, I went over to HatGirl's house to feed her cat and dogs and LuckyFucker's fish. Because they're gone. Getting married. Fucking surreal.

Anyway, HatGirl had assured me that her one asshole dog wasn't an asshole anymore. I'm not saying that she lied to me, but she was definitely mistaken. That damn dog refused to let me pay any attention whatsoever to the other dogs. It's exactly the same as it was a year ago.

And I didn't get to see the kitty at all. It was hiding from me because it doesn't know that I'm a cat person.

Then I went to Rich O's and had an Upland Wheat (231), then I came home.

Now I want to go outside and drink a Marzen but it's too damn cold. I kinda want to take a little space heater out there with me, but I'm afraid that might seem pathetic.

Maybe I'll just drink a damn beer in my living room like a regular person.

Got a quick text* from HatGirl this morning. They were getting ready to board. Their cruise. Their wedding cruise.

Surreal. The next time I see HatGirl and LuckyFucker, they will be married.

I bet that right now, Vegas oddsmakers are looking for tall buildings from which to fling themselves.

Anyway, for the next couple of weeks I am tasked with taking care of all of their critters. I'm looking forward to it, actually. I did the same thing last year, when they went on a regular non-wedding cruise. I like their dogs and their cat, and I guess the fish are cool.

This year I'm hopeful that the cat will actually let me pet it. And that none of the dogs bite me.

* - As opposed to those laboriously slow texts that take forever, I suppose.

Okay, so now that it's been established that my value is less than $35.00, I wonder what I am worth.

---

Not a single one of HatGirl's so-called friends showed up for her bachelorette party. I am so sad for her, and so angry at her so-called friends, that it's actually taking my mind off of my own problems. Imagine that.

---

I really did have fun at the thingy yesterday. I don't believe that she thought I had fun, but I did.

---

I guess I should have just stayed in Louisville last night. I bet AlliGirl and CoolHairGirl were working. But I had no way of knowing that Rich O's was going to be such a flop. Shit, I actually thought it might be good. Maybe that'll teach me to be an optimist. I really should know better by now.

I was trying to think if anything happened today, besides the funfest that was work.

But then I remembered that I got to talk to HatGirl on the phone after work.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I feel bad because not many people are going to her bachelorette party. If I was a girl, I'd go. Because, duh, it's HatGirl!

I asked her if she'd reminded everyone, when she sent the invitations, that she's HatGirl, and she said that it was implied.

I'm thinking that it must not have been implied very well or more girls would be going to HatGirl's party.

I was going to go to Rich O's for some spaghetti after work. My spaghetti plans were detoured yesterday, and I was still craving it.

But noooooooo!

There was a stupid traffic jam on the highway leading toward Rich O's, so I just came straight home.

And there was a stupid traffic jam on the highway leading home, too. So that sucked.

Anyway, now I'm starving to death.

I wonder what cat food tastes like. That's all there is in this house.

I thought, just for kicks and to see what happened, that I'd try to catch this damn thing up on what's happened in the last week or so.

Tuesday, September 16

A bunch of stuff I can't write about, and then I got my power back at 8:30, then more stuff I can't write about.

Wednesday, September 17

Stuff I can't write about, then I got to have lunch with HatGirl. Yay!

Then I got really really depressed. And then, while I was at Rich O's, some more stuff happened that I can't write about, but it put me in a better mood.

Then I got stuck doing some stuff for work, or maybe some other stuff might have happened. I couldn't have written about it though.

Thursday, September 18

I don't think anything happened all day, except that after work I got to do some stuff I can't write about, and it was a lot of fun.

Friday, September 19

I'd allowed myself to have hope. That was stupid. Friday was a very very sad day for me. Move along, please.

Saturday, September 20

I got to have lunch with HatGirl. Yay! But I already wrote about that, kinda. There was a picture.

Then Saturday night I sat around Rich O's and glared at my phone for hours, then I got to do something I can't write about, but it was really nice. Then when I got back home I did something stupid.

Sunday, September 21

A sad day. I even went on a rant, but I can't write about it.

Monday, September 22

Rich O's was out of every beer I've ever liked, but then I got to do something I can't write about. Found out some bad news that I can't write about.

Then, in an ironic twist, MisunderstoodGirl showed that she doesn't understand me at all.

Tuesday, September 23

A bunch of irrelevant stuff that I can't write about, then some bullshit that I can neither figure out nor write about.

This is the activity taking place outside my building this morning.

I have no idea what these people are doing. I just hope they get all that shit off the road before the afternoon rush hour.

I haven't done one of these for a couple of years, but it's time. It's definitely time.

I'm taking some time off. You won't be missing anything.

Or maybe not.

Sometimes it really irritates me, being unable to write the things that I most want to write.

But I should get over it.

Also, I don't like stupid games.

Had lunch with HatGirl today.

Usually, I have something extra to add, whenever I mention HatGirl. But this time, I'll let her awesome t-shirt say it for me.

Got to have lunch with HatGirl Wednesday. So that was an awesome surprise. And we're having lunch again Saturday, so yay!

---

Then I had a long-overdue talk with TremensGirl after work. The overdue part could basically be summed-up as I'm a dick.

The other part of the conversation consisted of me asking, "What's wrong with me?" and TremensGirl essentially replying, "Everything."

So, that sucked, though I can't say I was really surprised. At least she didn't suggest that I misrepresent myself. Nope, she said that I needed to actually change who I am and what I feel. Like I wouldn't have done that a million years ago if I knew how.

But it was a nice conversation, and I really appreciate her candor.

---

I think I've slept about two hours per night starting Monday night. Surprisingly, this isn't even close to my personal worst, but I'm still pretty damn tired.

---

I have no middle anymore. It's a really disconcerting feeling, jumping from one extreme to another with nothing in between.

---

Oh yeah, I got to see OddlyFamiliarGirl Wednesday night! It had been a million bazillion years.

---

This is stupid. I have nothing to say.

Got an email from HatGirl this morning.

HatGirl!

Yay!

Got lots of emails from her, actually, but one in particular was hilarious.

She told me that she'd reserved a seat for me, at her wedding reception, at a table for her special friends. This table is in the front of the room, probably so she can keep an eye on us in case we get out of line. But there's also an element of honor involved.

But that part was sweet. It wasn't the hilarious part.

The hilarious part was where there was another seat, presumably next to mine, reserved for "Dave's guest."

Bwahahahaha!

The reason, of course, that this is hilarious, is that the only person who would accompany me is already busy that night.

I know she's busy that night, because she's the bride.

So I invited someone else. The girl I really want to go with anyway. Her acceptance is extremely unlikely, but stranger things have happened.

Maybe, just in case, I should go get one of those blow-up dolls. Probably better than sitting at the reception alone like a chump.

I think that, today, I'm going to shut my cat Buddy in the basement when I get home. That way, he won't be able to fight with Nugget, and that way, I'll be able to take an actual nap.

I can't remember ever being this tired, except maybe the first time we all went to Philadelphia for work, a few years ago.

And, speaking of Philadelphia, we're all supposed to go back there in January. Oh boy! Philadelphia in January!

I'm pushing to just have us do the work from here. There's no reason that any of have to actually be in Philadelphia. But I push for this every year, and it never does any good. We always have to go.

Anyway, today I had a nice lunch with her at Hard Rock. With my potato skins, I had a Blue Moon (883) that was pretty damn tasty. My company was lovely as always.

I seem to have lost the ability to tell when someone is kidding. Or maybe I never really had that ability. This was the second day in a row that she totally fooled me with her kidding. My working theory about this is that, because I always expect the absolute worst, that's why I take this kidding seriously.

What might be an interesting experiment would be to be kidded about something good. But then I'd have to face the disappointment when the farce was revealed. And I'm pretty sure that my disappointment quota for this century is already used up.

I guess there's no way to win unless I turn into an optimist so I can recognize kidding. Not much chance of that happening.

I'm rambling because I'm tired.

I had a good day.

I should be careful, a guy could really get used to days like this.

A guy could find himself in serious trouble.

Okay, guess where I am, as I write this. Not my actual physical location, but guess what kind of place I'm in.

Guess!

You guessed that I was in a bar, didn't you?

Wrong!

I'm in a coffee house!

Weird, huh?

And I guess it's a Christian coffee house, or that's what I'm told anyway. Not that that matters to me one way or the other. It's the being in a coffee house that make this weird for me. I'm pretty sure that this is the first time I've ever graced such as establishment with my presence. Despite having lived in Seattle for six years.

Anyway, I'm here because I was invited, sort of. Or maybe I invited myself. Hard to tell sometimes.

I feel like some kind of hippie or something. I wonder if I should start hating myself. I also have a strong urge to smoke a clove cigarette, but they don't allow any smoking in here. I think that's part of the Christian coffee house thing they've got going.

Also, I hate coffee!

But, of course, I'm not here for the coffee, or even for the nonsmoking or the Christian music playing softly. I'm here for the company, and she's lovely.

So, I'm writing this on the back of an old carshow flyer from 2002, using a pen from that same era. I'm doing these things because my aforementioned lovely companion says I can't use her pen, nor can I have a sheet of paper. So I found an old pen and some old flyers in my glove compartment.*

Lovely, but stingy, apparently.

I'm drinking this fancy hippie soda named Bawl's Guarana. I don't know why - I just picked it. Maybe because of the pretty blue bottle. It says "High Caffeine Guarana Beverage" on the label. So that might be good, to have some extra caffeine. I was up late last night, and up early this morning.

Since we've been sitting here, two different women have walked in looking like they're having the worst day of their lives. I feel like I should go offer them a hug or something, but (a) I'm not one to go around hugging strangers, and (b) they look like they're bitches.

---

And now I feel a little useless. I don't want to bother my lovely companion with my inane chatter. She's trying to work, after all. I just leafed through an entire chick magazine, but that didn't really make me feel any more useful. Not a lot of call for magazine-leafer-throughers these days, I don't think.

I'm not bored though. I mean, I am here after all. So it could be much much worse. Like I could be somewhere else and not have such a pretty girl for company.

This fancy caffeine soda isn't all that good. Tastes kinda like flat Sprite.

Wow, I've managed to fill up this entire sheet of paper with my scribblings. I thought for a second about just scanning it and then posting the image, but I don't think I want anyone to know just how bad my penmanship is.

---

And now, I've got a decision to make. Do I start writing on the back of this second sheet of paper, or do I stop?

I'm pretty sure that no lives will be saved or lost as a result of my decision, but it could definitely affect how bad these craps cramps in my hand get.

Heh, when I first wrote the word cramps I accidentally wrote craps instead.

Like I had craps in my hand.

Gross.

* - She was kidding, and I was totally fooled by her kidding. Of course she would have let me use her pen, and a sheet of paper.

It turns out that HairCutLady is still very much alive and in business. She just had her phone disconnected because they doubled her monthly rate.

So, yay!

As of tonight, it's been four weeks since my friend WomanRepellant died.

Since I'm in a crappy mood anyway, I figured I'd crack open a bottle of Avery The Reverend (625) and have another conversation with his ghost.

I hope he's been doing okay. I hope he took my advice, four weeks ago, to go and haunt pretty girls for a while. I know that's what I'd do if I were a ghost.

UPDATE: It was a nice talk. Even though I got distracted by some emails, he understood. And I certainly understood when he looked at his ghostly watch, muttered something about NotHideousGirl taking a shower, and vanished in a puff of fog.

He may have been a dirty old man, but he was my friend, and I miss him.

I think this was the third time I've been in the newspaper. At least the third time. One time I drove my car off a cliff in Seattle. Another time StoreGirl and I were at Rich O's when a local paper came in to do a story about the place.

The third time was today. Click the picture for the entire article, while it lasts.

This was an article about Rich O's and its owner Roger. I was mentioned in the first sentence and I was quoted a couple of times.

---

Also today, I got to talk to SassyGirl for a while! We'd been texting back and forth, and eventually I got sick of that and just called her ass up. She and JauntyGirl are doing well, but they're far away from here, so it's a very mixed blessing.

---

The rest of the day was kinda disappointing, except I got a sweet email while I was taking a nap. Maybe I'll have more to write before I go to bed. Don't hold your breath, though.

So two freakazoids just rang my doorbell.

I don't know what they wanted, because I didn't answer the door. I just glared at them through slitted blinds as they shambled away, on foot.

Boo Radley's got nothing on me.

Still trying to absorb last night, and still trying to figure out what I can write and what I should write.

I think it's perfectly safe to say that it was the best night I've had in a long time.

It usually hits me at night, like most things. I'll be downstairs shooting pool and it'll hit me, and I'll nearly drop my cue. I'll be out on my swing and it'll hit me, and my swing will coast to a stop. Or I'll be reading a book and it'll hit me, and I'll read the same paragraph a dozen times.

I am so incredibly blessed. That realization hits me, and I can think of nothing else.

It might seem like an odd thing, to have a best friend that you've never even met. I suppose it seemed odd to me, back when I first found her. She has become such an integral part of my life, but if I saw her walking down the street I might not even know her. If I spoke to her on the phone it might take me a few seconds to recognize her voice.

It might seem like an odd thing, but it doesn't. Not to me. To me it's as natural as breathing. And just as involuntary.

Three years ago today, that's when I found her.

---

Just got an email from her.

Told her that I'm trying to write this entry, for our anniversary, but that I'm experiencing writer's block.

I think the problem is that nothing I could ever possibly write would be enough. Not enough to even come close to describing how important she is to me. I don't have the words, and even if I did, I don't think I have the strength to put those words together.

I know that whatever I write will fall short of the mark. Trivialize the emotions. Marginalize the gratitude that I feel when I think about her being in my life.

I needed something, three years ago. I needed it so badly that I was dying from the lack of it. And she gave it to me.

Understanding.

Not pity, or doubt, or advice. She didn't try to rationalize what I was going through, and she didn't try to make it all better, and she didn't judge, and she didn't mock.

She understood.

And I went from feeling completely alone in this world, to having an ally. A kindred spirit I called her. And that knowledge, that wonderful knowledge that I wasn't alone, that I wasn't a freak, that I wasn't any of the things I'd been labeled as...

Wonderful.

I began to heal, three years ago on this day. I stopped waiting to die, and began struggling to live, three years ago on this day.

---

Sometimes I think that we take each other for granted.

I relish those thoughts, because they're absolutely true. We take each other for granted because that's exactly what we are.

We will always be friends. We will always be there for each other.

We are granted to each other.

---

Happy anniversary, my dearest friend Teri.

1. On the way home last night, I stopped at a gas station for some Diet Pepsi. Sitting at a gas pump, about to leave, was BadPickleGirl.

What made this weird was that I never, ever, recognize BadPickleGirl right away. It's always that my hot girl radar goes off, and then I look over at her, and then it takes a few seconds before I realize it's BadPickleGirl.

Anyway, she gave me my two beer glasses back, so yay!

2. I was out on my swing last night emailing this chick from JS. I managed to get into a very bad mood because I wanted to be emailing you-know-who, but that didn't seem to be an option.

What made emailing the JS chick weird was that, after a couple of hours, she confessed that she'd been naked for like two hours while emailing me. I think she was trying to cheer me up, and it might have worked if my imagination worked better than it does.

And now the JS chick has a new nickname, and it's NakedGirl. I hope she likes it.

Those are supposedly monkeys. Giant inflatable albino monkeys. In blackface, for some strange reason.

I'm told they're supposed to be art, and that they're affiliated with the 21C museum/hotel across the street.

I don't know whether giant inflatable albino monkeys in blackface are art or not. What I do know is that (a) They seem kinda rascist to me, and (b) That's a busy interstate highway behind them, and (c) If I were driving down the highway and saw giant inflatable albino monkeys in blackface, I might just cause a 50-car pileup.

Maybe that's where the art would really be.

I had this idea for an entry last night, right about when I went to bed. Usually, when I have these late-night ideas, one of two things will happen. Either I'll get up and type up some quick notes to myself, or I'll fall asleep and then not remember anything in the morning.

Well, last night I did consider getting up and typing some notes. But my computer was all the way down at the other end of the hallway, so I just stayed in bed and went to sleep.

Imagine my surprise when, this morning at the crack of 10:30, I awoke with that same idea still rattling around in my head.

Now all I've got to do is figure out if I should write the thing.

It's kind of a two-parter, I think. The first part I could probably get away with, except for the fact that the first part leads quite obviously to the second part.

It's like a movie or a book that ends in a cliffhanger. You just know there's going to be a sequel, and you hope it doesn't suck.

This particular sequel, while it probably wouldn't suck, would almost definitely be taboo. Unless I can dress it up in metaphors so as to make it unrecognizable to anyone but me.

I need to think about this some more.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

Nope, not talking about me. Though that's certainly an understandable mistake.

I'm talking about my brother-in-law, Chris.

So Sunday evening we're all sitting on Dina's deck, mostly watching the kids splash each other in the pool, and all of a sudden I hear Dina shout out, "Chris, be careful!"

I glanced over toward Chris, and caught a glimpse of him falling off the deck. Then about a half-second later, I saw the extremely heavy wooden bench fall off the edge of the deck right after Chris. There were several loud thuds and maybe even a crack.

I think that, for a second or two, every single one of us figured Chris has just been killed right in front of us.

Dina, being younger, was faster than I was in getting up and running to where Chris had fallen. I was about a second behind. Chris's wife (my sister Neisha) was in the pool, as were all the kids.

But before anyone (except Dina) could really start to freak out, Chris announced, "I'm fine."

And, apparently, he was. Despite falling several feet at an odd angle and then having an 800-lb bench fall on top of him, Chris stood up, did a quick count of limbs and digits, and again announced that he was fine.

In fact, he was in much better shape than Dina was, what with the fifteen simultaneous heart attacks she was having. But all ended well.

So, whew! right?

The theory I came up with is that Chris is indestructible. Seeing several rocks, sticks, and other assorted improvisational weapons scattered about Dina's yard, I suggested that we should test my theory.

It would have been fun, I thought. But nobody else wanted to do it, so I left and went to Red Lobster for dinner instead.

I wake up underwater. I'm asleep one second, then the next second I'm disoriented and drowning. Struggling to survive, wondering if I have the strength, wondering if it's worth it.

So, that's not a lot of fun.

---

I've mentioned before how I can't stand to be away from my phone, for fear that I might miss a call or an email or a text from someone important. As this past week has been especially dramatic, I've taken to having my phone shoved up my ass when I shower, just so I'm sure that I won't miss anything.

Then, yesterday afternoon, I went to get my empty trash can from the end of my driveway. I'd been sitting in my garage, contemplating shit, and I left my phone where it was. I even remember telling myself, "Self, you idiot. Now just watch you'll get a call while you're getting your precious trash can."

So then I walked to the end of my driveway and back, and looked at my phone, and the fucking thing was blinking.

I only dropped it twice, fumbling to enter the password, so I'm getting better at that.

---

I did get another call later on. MixedSignalGirl called to check on me and say hello. We talked for an hour or so. I really screwed up with her, but she's happy now, and that's all that matters.

---

Then I got to go on a Super Top Secret Mission of Mystery, fraught with peril. It was fun, and there were no hitches. It was all very sneaky and clandestine. I wish we'd have worn ninja costumes, though. That would have been cool.

---

When I got back home, I sat on my swing and had about a bottle and a half of Left Hand Goosinator (115) and thought about the past and the future.

Not the present, though.

Fuck the present.

---

Friday night I rated my 496th beer. I've been thinking a lot about my 500th rating, which will probably happen this week. I want it to be something crappy, just because I think it would be funnier that way.

Because LaptopGirl is my official swill consultant, I have charged her with selecting the beer that will be my 500th. She suggested Lone Star. That's a good choice, though I'm not sure if I can get it around here. Her backup suggestion is Sapporo.

(Update: Her emergency fallback selection is MGD.)

(Update again: Or Mad Dog. I see her evil plan now. She's trying to drown me in swill. One way to get rid of me, I suppose, but there are more humane methods. I bet the Geneva Convention strictly prohibits drowning-by-swill.)

Anyway, I guess that's it.

So last night I reposted an old entry about blindness. Then, this morning, I awoke to find myself blind in my left eye.

Pretty crappy coincidence, right?

Right.

I guess a few days ago, maybe Sunday or Monday, I either got something in my eye or I scratched my eye. Something happened, because it started to feel a little uncomfortable when I'd blink or whatever.

Over the past couple of days, It's gotten a little worse, as I'd poke and prod and just generally fuck with it. I checked it out thoroughly. I also washed it out under the kitchen faucet. I neither saw nor obviously dislodged any debris, so I figured I must have scratched it.

Anyway, last night I reposted that stuff about blindness, then this morning my left eye was almost completely swollen shut.

I looked like I'd just gone ten rounds in the boxing ring. Or I guess I looked like Will Smith did in that Hitch movie.

I couldn't see out of my left eye, because of the swelling and the mucous and whatnot, so I did the next best thing. I poked and prodded and fucked with it all morning. As RockGirl pointed out, I have a spare eye for when I ruin one.

Then today at lunch, I was having AlliGirl check out my eye. She said it looked "a little bad." Since this morning it had looked "really fucking bad," I went to the restroom, braced myself, and looked in the mirror.

It's a lot better now. I'm not nearly as hideous as I was this morning. Hideousness being totally relative, of course.

And it doesn't hurt as much when I fuck with it.

So I've cancelled my appointment to have my glass eye fitted. At least for now, I'm binocular again.

Update: I had the nurse at work flush it out with some battery acid. That hurt a lot, but now my eye is almost back to normal. Yay!

Please don't do it.

I wish I had some magic words, but I've already said too much. Way too much, and it still wasn't enough.

---

Got a nice black leather sofa from BadPickleGirl today. It's in my basement, where it will displace this one ugly chair, after I move the shelves away from that wall.

My cat Nugget is scared of the new sofa, of course. I'm hopeful that his fear will keep him from shredding it to bits. At least for a couple of weeks, until he figures out that it's leather and therefore edible.

---

Dammit, this is supposed to be my fucking journal. My fucking outlet. It's not supposed to be some stage where I perform for my audience's amusement. And there's definitely no fucking script.

---

One of the ways that I know I'm in a very weird mood is when I start thinking in metaphors. Like tonight, I started thinking about how I jumped out of a perfectly good lifeboat because I thought I saw the glimmer of a lighthouse on the horizon.

The lifeboat moved away, and the glimmer proved false, and now my lungs fill with water.

Sometimes metaphors are fun. And sometimes they're useful.

And sometimes they're nothing but stupid.

---

I pretty much have to accept that people lied to me for years. I wonder why they did that. Was it to make me feel better? Was it to get me to shut the fuck up?

Or maybe, just maybe, they didn't know they were lying at all.

---

I've been on-call all week. It blows.

---

Speaking of glimmers, I like this entry, from 2005:

When you live your life in total darkness, it doesn't take much.

The smallest spark, the slightest flash of light, can capture your full attention. Even after it's gone, the memory of that flash lives on.

Sometimes that flash is welcomed, but most times, most times it's only reminding you of what's missing.

A man gone blind does not always wish for sight, for there can be comfort in the dark.

Acceptance. Tranquility. Peace. All erased by a spark, a glimmer, a splash of light that does nothing but burn the retinas and leave ghost images floating and intruding.

A flash is nothing by itself. It's over in an instant. But the memory of it lingers, and the blind man sometimes wishes he could forget.

---

I should try to sleep now. I hope I don't dream.

So today was probably the last AlliDay ever. Though I guess there may be one more, next week. AlliGirl is changing shifts and won't be working Wednesday day-shift anymore.

Wednesday. What a boring word that is. And, from now on, it will probably be a boring day.

My Newcastle (10200), by the way, was yummy.

Went to Rich O's today, after work. And, for the first time in a long time, I saw absolutely nothing appealing on the board. I'd been kinda craving a Weihenstephaner, but that keg had blown. I'd kinda been craving a draft Marzen, but that keg hasn't arrived yet. Yesterday I had an NABC Flat Tyre (1009), but I didn't feel like having another one today.

The beer board looked so uninteresting to me that I actually considered having an Arrogant Bastard. But then I remembered that I don't like Arrogant Bastard all that much.

So I ended up just driving home.

At least tomorrow is AlliDay, so I'll get to have a yummy Newcastle.

Okay, so I've lost all motivation for this journal. For a lot of things. I need to step back for a while.

Crap crapity crap!

So there I was, sitting on my swing and enjoying a lovely Malheur 10 (96). Counting lightning bugs, glaring at my phone, whistling for the neighbor's dog.

I was having a nice night, but then something horrible happened.

My fancy Gulden Draak glass, still almost full of yummy beer, suddenly leapt from its position between my thighs and flung itself onto the bricks at my feet.

Shattered, into a hundred pieces. The beer draining into the spaces between the bricks before I could even think of getting my tongue down there.

It all happened so fast.

Why? Why did my glass take its own life like that?

*sniff* I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.

I wish I'd known that something was wrong.

I wish I'd known what danger signs to look for.

And I definitely fucking wish it had waited until it was empty, instead of taking ten ounces of yummy Malheur 10 with it.

Such a waste.

You ever find yourself at an airport with some time to kill, so you just sit around watching people?

Yeah, me too.

You ever see a guy in purple parachute-pants, a yellow wife-beater shirt, and the name "Adrian" tattooed on his arm, and say to yourself, "Self, there goes the gayest guy on Earth?"

Yeah, me too.

Then did you ever turn your head at a squishy/slurpy sound, and see a guy walking down through the airport with four dicks in his mouth? And then did you say to yourself, "Self, you were totally wrong before. That's the gayest guy on Earth, right there."

Yeah, me too.

---

Anyway, I'm back home now.

I was up to Saturday night with these ramblings, and then I stopped. I don't know why I stopped. Because, after all, absolutely nothing happened Saturday night. I myself stayed home and made gift baskets for orphans all night long.

If you think that anything happened Saturday night, then you're clearly smoking crack and you should seek professional help.

---

So then Sunday I ended up going to Don Pablo's for dinner. I got to see NotHideousGirl for the first time in a million years, and I got to eat yummy food. So there.

Then I went across the street to Hooters and had some Newcastles (10008) and talked to this one dude I went to school with.

You may notice that I passed 10,000 ounces of Newcastle. This doesn't count, though, because I was supposed to save that occasion for AlliDay. I screwed up, and it was only because AlliGirl is so nice that I was given a do-over.

---

Let's see, Monday night I had one of the new beers that I'd bought Saturday at Barley Island.

Barley Island Bourbon Barrel-Aged Oatmeal Stout

(bottle) Black with thin tan head. Mild aroma of bourbon. Medium mouthfeel. Flavor more intense and bourbony that the aroma had hinted. As an oatmeal stout, there isn't much flavor except for the bourbon. Pretty good, though gimmicky.

Then yesterday after work I had another new beer for me.

Victory Golden Monkey

(draft) Pours clear and golden with a large long-lasting head. Nice aroma of apple peels and malts. Smooth and creamy mouthfeel. Flavor more malty than most tripels, maybe some caramel in there that coats the mouth. Quite damn good.

---

And then today, for AlliDay, I had my official 10,000th ounce of Newcastle (10028). There was a big party with balloons and dancing girls. It was fantastic.

Okay, what really happened was that AlliGirl bought my beer for me and gave me a hug. Still pretty damn cool, though.

---

The dude I talked to Sunday reminded me that my high school reunion is approaching in less than three weeks. I guess I don't care. I had originally planned to go, but I don't want to go by myself.

So, basically, waaaaah!

---

Tomorrow I go to Atlanta. It might be fun, but I doubt that I'll find myself in Atlanta, either.

Now, where was I?

Oh yeah, at the stupid depressing park.

I'd gone there, as I'd gone to Polly's Freeze earlier, looking for myself.

I wasn't at either place. I remember running into myself once a long time ago. At Rich O's of all places. That was nice, but that was also the last time.

Anyway, by the time I'd returned home from the floodwall park, it was clear to me that there was a 0% chance that anything good would happen Friday night. Understandable, but of course disappointing. Because of this, I saw no reason to bother leaving my house at all. So that's precisely what I didn't do at all. Instead, I sat on my swing and I glared at my phone and I had three yummy bottles of Delirium Nocturnum (157), and that was it.

Then by Saturday at around noon, I'd once again gleaned that there was a 0% chance of anything good happening. Still understandable, still disappointing. But whereas on Friday that 0% had caused me to lose all motivation, on Saturday I couldn't run out the door and jump into my truck fast enough.

Luckily, I always carry a spare pair of pants in my truck, for times such as that. When I don't want to waste time putting on pants before I leave my house.

What I did, and this really was a spur of the moment decision, was I drove up to Noblesville, Indiana. To the Barley Island brewpub, specifically. Just something to do, really. I might just as well have picked Oaken Barrel, as it's slightly closer to home, but I had Barley Island on my mind because LaptopGirl had been raving about their Barfly IPA.

The drive up took a couple of hours. It was uneventful, though I felt bad because I kept getting emails but I was driving and couldn't type my responses very well. I managed to survive the drive* though. I even managed to respond to some of the emails, when the traffic and the rain let up enough.

The first thing I noticed, upon entering the brewpub, was that it was really dark. Like being inside a cave at midnight with my eyes closed and a bag over my head. But then my eyes started to adjust, and I was able to grope and stumble my way, around a bunch of empty tables and up an unfortunately-placed step, to the bar area.

I only took one picture, and it's a pretty crappy picture, even by my standards.

The first thing I did, after seating myself, was order a trio of small samples, of the three available draft selections that I hadn't had before.

Barley Island Sheet Metal Blonde

(draft) Color of hazy grapefruit juice. Light citrus aroma. Very light citrus flavor, with a bit of sourness, like grapefruit juice. Good, not great.

Barley Island Blind Tiger Pale Ale

(draft) Clear light brown. No detectable aroma or flavor. There was a slightly bitter hoppy finish, but not enough to be completely disgusting. A waste of my time.

Barley Island Barfly IPA

(draft) The color of clear weak tea. Light aroma of floral hops. Medium mouthfeel. Flavor decent but mild. The slightly bitter finish went away after a few sips. Maybe a good session beer.

I went ahead and ordered a full glass of the Barfly (20), and enjoyed that with my yummy burger and fries. I traded a bunch more emails with LaptopGirl, and a few with RockGirl.

I relaxed fairly well I suppose, but I could already tell that I wouldn't be staying. I guess I'd been hoping to find myself, up there away from all of the distractions of home. But I wasn't there, either. I'm still a slippery bastard I guess.

So next I had a Dirty Helen (400), which is one of my favorite brown ales. And then I had something I wasn't expecting. The place had a couple of guest beers available, and one of those guest beers was an all-time favorite of mine. So my last beer was an incredibly yummy Two Brothers Domaine DuPage French Style Country Ale (310).

Before I left, I bought a couple of bottles to have at home sometime. I also picked up a growler of the Barfly for LaptopGirl.

The drive home was uneventful.

* - Poet and don't know it.

Then, after I visited the creepy zombie clubhouse, I continued the short distance down the road to the park.

I'm pretty sure that the park has a name, but I can't remember what that name is. Probably named after some dipshit with money.

Back when I was a teenager, right after the last ice age, I'd come down to the floodwall fairly often. Note that it was the floodwall then, not a park. At least once every weekend we'd go down there. Lots of kids my age went down there. We'd shoot the shit. Drink our illegally-obtained beer, smoke cigarettes like chimneys. Make out, have sex sometimes. We were kids - we did kid stuff.

But then, shortly after I left home to join the Air Force, a lot of crap happened down at the floodwall.

Some assholes decided to make it into a park.

And not only that, they decided to make it into the worst park ever.

It closes at dusk now. Before, the fun didn't even start until hours later. Now, I think they're allowed to shoot you if you go there after dark.

They constructed all this new shit. Seating and a bandstand and shit like that. Before, it was just a bunch of concrete pillars you could climb on.

Anyway, here are some pictures I took.

This is the Sherman Minton Bridge. It's how I-64 connects Indiana and Kentucky. Everyone takes pictures of this bridge, when they're down at the floodwall park. I think it's a rule or something. I drive across this bridge every day going to and coming from work.

Looking upriver, once can see another bridge. I think this is the K&I bridge, used for trains only. Though I think I've heard mumblings about maybe opening the old car lanes up to pedestrians and bicyclists. I have very dim memories of riding across that bridge with my parents when I was very young. I remember that you could see right through the road into the water, as the road surface consisted only of metal grating.

By far the most noticeable "improvement" they've made down here is this monstrosity.

Again, there used to be nothing here but pillars you could climb on. It was a gazillion times better then.

At the very top of the earthen floodwall, there's a platform thingy. I climbed to the top and took this next picture.

Dedicated stalkers will, of course, recognize my truck parked way down there on the road.

The top of the floodwall used to be reserved for starry-eyed couples. Now they've gone and made it accessible for everyone.

But hey, it's not all bad I guess. That playground looks kinda fun.

---

The whole thing was just very depressing to me. Yet another part of my adolescence that's gone for good.

There was an old man. He was sitting on a bench near where I parked my truck, just sitting and watching the river flow by.

I imagined him as a future version of myself. Just sitting and watching the water pass him by, and remembering everything else that had passed him by over the years.

The old man glared at me when I parked my truck, for intruding into his world like that. I think he just wanted to be left alone, so that's what I did.

When I climbed to the top of the platform thingy, he was gone. Maybe he jumped into the river, or maybe one of his girlfriends came and picked him up. I'll never know. Either way, I'll never see that old man again, nor he I. And that makes me sad. I bet it'd be cool to have a beer with him.

Okay, so Friday sucked, Saturday sucked, and Sunday isn't looking too good, either.

Is that enough? Does that count as an entry?

No?

Okay, fine.

I already mentioned that I went to the river Friday. Specifically, I went to this depressing little park that they've built on the river-side of the floodwall.

But before I got to the park, I stopped at this creepy little building and took some pictures. See, RockGirl has been sending me pictures of all these neat scary old buildings where she lives. So I figured I'd reciprocate a little.

That's a little building next to the river, on the same road that the park is on. I must have passed it a zillion times in my youth, but I'd never taken a good look at it before.

I like the way they did masonry back in the olden days. Even for a crappy little building like this, they added some class and took pride in their work.

One very weird thing was that I saw an old potty chair through the partly-open door.

Whereas the old abandoned buildings in RockGirl's area are huge zombie fortresses, she said this building looked more like a zombie clubhouse. But I guess it's actually just an old pumping station. A zombie clubhouse would be cool, though.

I think I'll put the stuff about the actual park in another entry.

I've recently been told that, as a blogger, I'm actually expected to write stuff.

So okay fine. I'll write something. Plus, I'm waiting for some clothes to dry.

I wasn't going to write about this at all, but my hand has now been forced, and I'll look like a wimp if I don't write about it. So, like I said, I'll write something.

The other night I was out on my swing. I love my swing on the warm Summer nights. I can sit out there with a nice beer and I can play fetch with the neighbor's dog and I can contemplate the universe.

I can also have nice little email conversations and occasional phone conversations, though the latter are fairly rare these days.

So the other night I was having a nice little email conversation with LaptopGirl. I think I must have bored her because she disappeared on me. Then, the next day, she said she'd fallen asleep. I've heard of this sleep thing. I even seem to have some vague memories of doing it myself, but I can't be sure. Those may be false memories implanted by aliens, or the media, or maybe the alien media.

Anyway, after I'd bored LaptopGirl into Snoozytown (pop: everyone but me) my phone rang. A number that I don't have in my phone's memory. Instead, a number that's burned into my brain.

MixedSignalGirl.

Yay?

We had the world's shortest phone conversation. And that was probably a good thing because I was having a hard time holding onto the phone anyway. Because our last conversation hadn't gone very well. This one was better, and shorter.

Me: Hello?

MSG: Are you at home?

Me: I'm out on my swing.

MSG: Save me a seat.

Me: Don't come here.

MSG: I'm on my way. (click)

So I figured that I had some choices.

First, I could spontaneously burst into flames. I tried that for a few seconds, but I must have been doing it wrong because all that happened was that I peed my pants a little.

Second, I could run into my house and turn off all the lights and hide. I didn't really consider this, once I remembered that MixedSignalGirl probably still has a key to my house and she knows the alarm code.

Third, I could be a man and just sit and wait for her. That's what I decided to do. I mean, what was the worst thing that could happen?

The next day I emailed RockGirl about the visit. Here's an edited version of that email.

Well, she came over. Just like she still did it all the time. Just like she still had every right to come over whenever she felt like it.

I didn't know what to expect. I thought maybe she was going to throw herself at me and say she was moving back here. I thought that maybe she was going to show up with her boyfriend and force me to meet him. (deleted)

It wasn't nearly as dramatic as any of that. It was a lot like the olden days. She pulled in the driveway and parked in front of the detached garage. She waved at me on my swing. She got out of her car and plopped down next to me and said , "Hi!"

Just like it hadn't been a million years, since she'd sat on that swing with me.

We had a couple beers. She stayed until a little before 3:00. Nothing happened. We just sat and talked about the olden days and what had gone wrong and what had been happening with her and with me. (deleted) She told me about how wonderful her boyfriend is, and I managed to be happy for her about that. Even though I don't believe it, not really. We talked about my nephew Cory and how Dina is still struggling to deal with that loss.

All she really wanted to do was see me and make sure I didn't hate her for moving away and for finding someone new. And her boyfriend is arriving in town today, so last night was the only opportunity she had to see me. I told her that of course I didn't hate her. But I also didn't tell her that I love her. (deleted)

I gave her a hug when she left. I think she was feeling better. I'm not sure that I was, but at least I wasn't feeling any worse.

And now I've written something.

First, I had got to do some stuff for work. There were three things to do, and I got two of them done. The third thing showed some potential problems during final testing, so I decided to put it off until I can research it some more. Because I'm all about quality control and shit.

Then, I took a nap. I dreamed about LaptopGirl, probably because she emailed me and woke me up right at that precise moment when I was about to drift off to sleep. Anyway, it wasn't a very good dream, because LaptopGirl was mean to me in the dream, and in the dream I got angry at her. Then when I woke up I was still angry at her for a while. Stupid, I know.

Then HatGirl and LuckyFucker came over for a while.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I took about 800 pictures of them. Standing in front of a tree. Sitting on my swing. Standing in front of another tree. I have no idea why HatGirl chose me to take the pictures. But it was still fun to pretend that I had a clue about what I was doing.

(Deleted)

Then, I went to Hooters and had a couple glasses of Newcastle (9910) and watched some baseball on TV.

Then, I came home.

There's still a chance that HatGirl and I will test my video chat capabilities tonight, but it's getting pretty late so probably not.

Friday night, LaptopGirl and I went to this Bier Prost 2008 thingy at our local riverboat casino complex. I insisted on calling this a date. LaptopGirl insisted that it was merely a thingy. But then I guess her mom said it was a date. So there. Majority rules.

I don't think that either of us was at all sure what to expect there. The flyer said something like, "Beer and food from around the world." So that sounded cool. right? I guess I was expecting it to be more beery than it was. I mean, they had a bunch of tubs with bottles of beer in them. We got cute little ceramic sample cups that would hold about two ounces of beer. Then we'd walk around and ask the bored people working the tubs for whatever we wanted.

None of those people knew about or cared about beer. The only brewery representatives there were from NABC.

It was like the people running the event just went out to a liquor store and bought a bunch of bottles and then put them in tubs full of ice. Even the other attendees seemed to be there just for the charity aspect.

But most disappointing to me was the food. It was just like they called some caterer and said we want some various stuff, and that's all they got.

But the point of the thing, for the people running it, wasn't beer and it wasn't food. It was some charity thing that I never heard of before. So they obviously wanted to save costs wherever they could.

The point of the thing for me, of course, wasn't beer or food either. It was to get to spend some time with LaptopGirl away from Rich O's. And that goal was very well satisfied.

Anyway, I did have some beers. Most of these were just 2-ounce samples. Here are the ones that were new to me:

Barley Island Flat Top Wheat

(bottle) Fizzy, with a nice aroma and a pretty good taste. Very light. More like a Belgian wheat than an American or German wheat. Pretty good. I'll look for this.

(bottle) Dark brown with a nice head. Aroma of dark fruits and maybe some chocolate. The flavor was surprisingly good to me. I will definitely look for this again. Probably today.

(bottle) Usually I know to steer clear of any beer calling itself a blonde, but this was listed as a Belgian Triple in the flyer, so I tried it. I liked it. There was nothing outstanding about it, but neither was there anything wrong with it. Maybe a watered-down Delirium tremens. Good.

(bottle) Straw and other dead weeds, in both the aroma and the flavor. Not very hoppy. Not very much of anything. Disgusting.

(can) Pretty metallic. Quite gross. I don't think that even people who like lagers would like this.

(can) Just gross. Smelled of rotten hops, and tasted very metallic. It tasted to me like it was skunked. Suprisingly bad.

(bottle) I know I'd had this before, but I'd never reviewed it. As a Baltic Porter, it of course reminds me of my beloved Baltika 6. Dark and roasty and chocolatey. Just a touch of alcohol burn at the finish makes me want more right away. Good.

Then we came back to New Albany, and LaptopGirl got this sudden intense craving to stop and eat at this one place I'd never been to before called Waffle House. Anxious to prolong the evening as much as I could, I readily agreed. So we sat and talked some more while she got something to eat, then I took her home and then I came home myself.

It was a really fun night for me. Kinda surreal, but really fun.

Of course I'm excited.

I just don't want to jinx it.

What a disappointment.

They weren't lingerie photos after all. Just bikinis.

Come to think of it, I might have been told that, when they first started flooding in. I just forgot when I saw all the Victoria's Secret URLs.

I'm supposed to help HatGirl pick something for a cruise, I guess.

I like the one in the lower right.

So, not the best day for me, but I'll get over it I suppose.

Had the world's longest and most pointless meeting this morning. The eventual outcome of the meeting was, "We don't know anything, let's schedule another meeting and maybe we'll know something by then."

During the meeting, about a million fire trucks showed up and nearly surrounded our building. This struck me as strange, mainly because none of us were on fire at the time. As it turned out, there was an alarm at a nearby building. Luckily it turned out to be a false alarm.

The rest of the work day was okay, I guess. I've got so much crap to do. I think I'm going to have to burn a day of vacation tomorrow so I'll have time to do some of the crap. I think this is how workaholics are born.

Speaking of being retarded, I left a sleeping bag out on my deck, and now it's soaking wet because it stormed a little while ago.

Also, my stupid cats are acting like they're starving to death, but their food bowls are full. Because I fed them this morning, disrupting their usual schedule. I doubt that they've even bothered to look to see if they have any food.

Also, I sometimes I really miss working for myself. Stupid internet bubble bursting...

Grrrr.

I think that's it for now. I've got lingerie pictures in my email that I'm supposed to look at.

So today I went to Jeffersonville.

First time in a couple of years, I think, that I've graced that town with my presence. At least on my own - I seem to recall going to Buckhead for lunch with some coworkers more recently.

Buckhead is where I went today, of course. I like the food there. I like the memories that resurface there. And they usually have good beer, too.

I sat out on the deck, oddly optimistic that it wouldn't rain while I was eating, and I enjoyed a yummy Cajun burger and a Paulaner Hefeweissbier (551) in a plastic cup.

It was very nice out today, as long as it was cloudy. As soon as the Sun would come out from behind the clouds - as happened several times - I'd almost immediately start being roasted alive.

But, it was usually cloudy, and so I survived.

Then, I went across the street to Hooters to see my cousin Jeff. I haven't seen him since my nephew's funeral, but that's not entirely my fault. He has agreed to share a lot of the blame.

Anyway, here's a picture of the potential storm that rolled in right after I got to Hooters.

All that storm really did was dump rain. It cooled things off, though, so that was nice.

While I was at Hooters, I had a couple glasses of Newcastle (9808) while I talked with Jeff. Then I went to Sluttopia to meet up with some old guy who was going to loan me a guitar, but he was a no-show. Damn old people. They can't be trusted for shit.

And that was it. Now I'm back home, wondering what happened to my weekend.

Please sit down before reading this.

I'll wait.

Okay.

Today, get this, I actually left my house on a day off work!

I know, unbelievable. But true nevertheless.

After spending the first half of the day thinking up creative ways to kill myself*, I suddenly found myself energized this afternoon. This was a good thing, because I had important and pressing shit I needed to do:

1. Buy a toilet thingy, because my old thingy broke.

2. Buy some water-softener salt.

3. See what new DVDs were at Wal-mart.

So I did the first thing, then I skipped the second thing and went to Wal-mart. While I was buying some new movies, and contemplating going back home to preheat my head at about 400 degrees*, my phone rang.

HatGirl!

Yay!

So instead of offing myself*, I ended up going to Louisville to have lunch with HatGirl. It was, of course, very nice. though this is now twice in less than a week that I've had lunch with HatGirl. I may be becoming spoiled. I may just start showing up at her house to demand, "What are we eating?"

Anyway, I didn't eat anything today. I had a Breckenridge Porter (146) though. It was good. And the company was so good that I didn't need to eat.

And AlliGirl got to meet HatGirl, and vice-versa.

Then we went upstairs to check out some bar prospects for HatGirl's bachelorette party. Because AlliGirl might be able to get HatGirl and her friends in for free.

HatGirl begged and cried*, but I had to put my foot down and tell her that I wasn't available to be the stripper at her party.

Then I went and took care of item number two from above, then I came home.

Fun!

* - Not really.

So I'm off work tomorrow, for at least the first half of the day, so I've got to decide what to do tonight.

I could go to Rich O's for a while, or I could stay home and work on some performance appraisal stuff for work.

Let's see, I'll flip a coin.

Heads I'll go to Rich O's, and tails I won't stay home and do performance appraisal stuff.

Here goes...

flip flip flip flip flip catch reveal

It's heads!

Looks like I'm going to Rich O's tonight.

I don't know if this is going to be one entry or two or three. I'm not sure that it really matters what it's going to be, but it seems like it should matter. So I can pace myself properly, or something like that.

'Cause there were three Saturdays. And if I seem to skimp on any of them, somebody somewhere is going to think I'm a dick.

Well, I'm not a dick, just so you know. I only portray one from time to time. If I seem to skimp, it's only because my priorities are what they are.

Actually, maybe there were four Saturdays, but I'm not going to count the first one because it was just me sitting at home, glaring at the clock on my computer, waiting for the time when I could go see HatGirl.

---

I ended up leaving home an hour early. I was just too excited. So to kill some of that extra time, I went to this computer store, right next to Famous Dave's, and I bought some cooling fans for my computer.

So, that was pretty exciting.

Then I went into Famous Dave's and grabbed a table. I drank Diet Coke and I watched a boring soccer game (redundant, I know) and a couple of text messages from HatGirl came in.

HatGirl!

Yay!

She was going to be late.

Boo!

This was weird, because I'm pretty sure it was the first time in the history of the universe that any woman has ever been late for anything.

But she did eventually show up, and we got to have lunch and go shopping. It was a really nice time, and HatGirl is pretty and charming, even when she's as clearly stressed-out as she was. I could see it in her face, in her body language, and hear it in her voice. Poor HatGirl!

When I'm in charge of the universe, I will have a rule that HatGirl will feel no stress.

Next, I went to my sister Dina's house for her husband's birthday party. I think he's 308 now. Something like that. I don't ever seem to quite fit in with those huge crowds at Dina's. So I pretty much kept to myself. I talked to SpoonsGirl for a bit. I talked to BadPickleGirl for a bit. I talked to various other people, always for just a bit.

Oh, and I petted Dina's kitties. Two of them, anyway. The other one is scared of me.

So then, because I had to work at 6:00 this morning, I left Dina's at 6:30 or so and came home to try to take a nap.

That didn't work for shit. It was weird - I was completely exhausted until about two seconds after I laid down on my couch. After that, I was wide awake.

And now I think I'm going to split this into at least two entries.

This will get me into trouble.

The things I do write for you people.

Anyway.

I remember when I couldn't take a fucking piss without hitting a Mexican.

But tonight, when I really needed them, were they around?

Fuck, no.

Not a single Mexican to be seen.

Anywhere.

I don't care what weather.gov says, it's cold tonight. Too cold to comfortably enjoy sitting on my swing with this Marzen (3779), that's for sure.

Maybe it would have been better if I'd put some more clothes on, but it's June. I will not get all layered-up in June in Southern Indiana.

But the cold isn't why I came back in to the house. Nope, I came back into the house because there are fucking stobor outside.

The first one, I thought maybe it was a cat. It was way too dark to see anything more than an indistinct blob of darkness of indeterminate size. Like the last time, I asked the hopeful, "Kitty kitty?" But, like the last time, it wasn't no kitty. It was clearly a stobor which ran into my garage and started tearing into the crap piled therein.

I sat and listened to it, trying to gauge its size from the racket it was making. I was estimating somewhere between a racoon and a Tyrannosaurus Rex, when I heard another stobor. Out in the front yard, as near as I could tell.

Imagine that you take an animal that almost never makes a sound. A rabbit perhaps, or maybe an opposum. Now, imagine doing something horrible to that animal. Step on it. Skin it alive. Fuck it up the ass. Something painful enough to cause that normally quiet animal to make the most terrible sound in the universe.

That's what that second stobor sounded like.

But seriously, if you really thought about fucking that poor animal up the ass, then please seek professional help. Because that's just sick.

Anyway, it must have been a mating call or a challenge or something, because the stobor in my garage answered almost immediately with that same awful wailing sound. And then I saw it, or rather its accompanying blob of darkness of indeterminite size, exit my garage and zoom into my front yard.

You know what's worse than the most terrible sound in the universe? Well, I'll tell you. It's two sources of that sound, joined together in an unholy harmony.

And that's the next sound that invaded my ears, as the two stobor began to mate or fight with each other.

Whatever it was they were doing, I didn't care. I took that opportunity to retreat into my house.

I'm actually shaking now.

So the other day I was asked to provide an example of my weirdness. I provided an example at that time, and I wrote about it here.

And now, at great risk to my already fragile reputation, I will now give another example of my weirdness.

This was Wednesday night. I got this really stupid fantasy in my head. I was sitting out on my swing, enjoying a lovely Marzen (3579), and I thought that my phone might ring. Never mind that it was very late at night - it was my really stupid fantasy, and so the time was pretty much irrelevant.

Anyway, my phone never rang. So I got more and more antsy about it, and I did something stupid.

I sent an email.

Surely, I thought, Surely now my phone will ring to either indicate an incoming email or a text message or a phone call.

But alas, my phone sat silent beside me on my swing. Mocking me with its silence. My phone is so mean sometimes.

Then, at about 2:30 in the morning, I began to feel tired. I needed to go into my house and get some sleep, but I still had that really stupid fantasy in my head. And in that really stupid fantasy, see, I was outside when my phone rang. So, I figured, if I went inside my house, I'd be giving up on my really stupid fantasy.

Well, I didn't want to give up on the thing. It was a nice really stupid fantasy. I didn't want to go into my house and go to bed and give up on it.

So, brilliant tactician that I am, I went and got my tent and my sleeping bag and my pillow. I set up camp in my backyard, and I slept out there.

Weird, right?

But I never gave up on my really stupid fantasy. Because I'm all stubborn and shit.

I suppose I'm not exactly feeling my best right now.

Physically, I'm still weak from this stupid sinus infection. Mentally, I'm feeling just a little bit lost. Like I'm not sure what to do for the next several days.

It's not that I won't be able to find some way to pass the time, perhaps even enjoy the time, but I don't think I'll really be able to look forward to anything. So even simple planning seems like a waste of effort.

I suppose I could just hole-up here at home. Shoot some pool, watch some movies. Things like that used to be enough for me, but that was a long time ago. Another life ago.

---

Oh yeah, I had a big-ass fucking tree limb fall this morning. This one grazed the side of my detached garage, and may have damaged my fence. The big problem with this limb is that it's still partly attached to the tree - about 30 feet up. So I don't know what I'm going to do. I already tried closing my eyes and counting to ten, but the damn thing was still there when I looked again.

Stupid non-imaginary limb.

I'll take some pictures of it tomorrow, if I remember, and it's not raining.

If I can get the limb on the ground, then I can cut it up or maybe just drag it into the woods. I think I'll try to attach a rope to it, then pull it free with my truck. It might work.

---

I was wondering about something today. Wondering if something cool might happen. Well, it didn't happen, but that's okay. It was a long shot.

It would have been really cool, though.

I think today was kinda boring. It must have been because I can't remember any of it.

Hold on a second while I scour my brain...

Okay, found some things.

First, my guilt-induced insomnia really played havoc with me Sunday night and into Monday morning. I bet I got three whopping hours of sleep. So that sucked.

Then some crap exciting and challenging activities I was doing for work finally finished, so I was able to stop checking my computer every 10 minutes. So that was cool.

All day long I was starving, yet totally unmotivated to get dressed and leave my house. I just saw no point in it. I see no point in much these days. At about 5:00, however, I noticed that I was almost out of Diet Coke, so I showered, grudgingly put on some clothes, and exited the premises. Because there's no way I'd be able to get up in the morning without my caffeine.

I drove my Monte Carlo (the day's predicted tornado stampede never materialized) to Red Lobster for dinner. My phone rang when I was on the way. It was StupidGirl! Yay! She's so nice. She wanted to wish me a happy Memorial Day because I'm a veteran. Of course, I'm not a dead veteran, but it was the thought that counted.

At Red Lobster, I had my usual yummy food. So that was cool. And I texted OddlyFamiliarGirl in case she was working, but I guess she wasn't.

Then I went to Hooters and had a couple glasses of Newcastle (9618). I traded a few million emails with RockGirl. Then I came home.

I've been watching a bunch of tivoed episodes of The Alaska Experiment.

Now I want to move back to Alaska. I liked it there, except for it being a nonstop statewide sausage festival. It was pretty, except for all the sausages.

Okay, so after my last entry, I remembered that I was bored, so I left my house.

I went to Polly's Freeze for dinner. Some dipshits had my table, but I got over it.

When I was waiting for my food, there was this old woman standing nearby, also waiting for her food. She kinda looked like the mother of a childhood friend of mine, except much older.

"Excuse me Ma'am, are you Brian's great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, by any chance?" I asked.

"I'm his mother," she conceded.

So I told her who I was, and that it was good to see her. I'm pretty sure that she even remembered me. Weird how she's managed to age a quarter-century since I last saw her, a quarter-century ago. I'm sure it's my fault somehow.

But seriously, it was cool to see her. I always worry about people dying. I'm glad she didn't.

Interestingly enough, her son Brian was the model for one of my youngest sister's imaginary childhood friends. For about six months after this one day when Brian came down to our house to play, my sister Neisha was always, "Brian this," and "Brian that." it was quite cute, actually. Her other imaginary friend was named Rakis and I always figured that she'd heard the word rapist on TV or something.

After I left Polly's, I went down to Sluttopia for a Newcastle (9578). I might have stayed for another one but this one drunk kept mumbling to me about the race that was on TV. He kept saying, "Aaarg yuuurg blarr farrrrrrrr uttttt," which I think translates as, "Look at them make all those fucking left turns."

I soon realized that I was just as bored at Sluttopia as I'd be at my house. I also realized that there weren't any mumbling drunk NASCAR fans at my house. So I came home.

My fun day started at about 7:00 in the morning, when I woke up and remembered that everything is my fault. After that, I couldn't get back to sleep, because of all the guilt, so I just stayed up and shot some pool for a while.

Then, I went to NotHideousGirl's house to help move some of her shit into storage. We'd agreed to meet at 1:00, and NotHideousGirl was considerate enough to call me at 12:59, when I was about 30 seconds from her house, to tell me that the time would be 3:00 instead of 1:00.

I ended up waiting on her porch for an hour or so, listening to the neighbors having a full blown white-trash throw-down. I suspected that one of them was going to murder the other, then murder me for being a witness. So I shot off a couple of quick emails, to RockGirl and LaptopGirl. You know, to say a proper goodbye and stuff.

But I guess the neighbors must have ended up killing each other, as the racket suddenly stopped after about an hour, and I'm still alive, so whew! My lucky day.

Then we loaded my truck up and took NotHideousGirl's stuff to storage, five or six times. It's not quite as bad as it sounds, though, because my truck has the carrying capacity of a gnat's rectum. Plus, MusicalYuppieDude was there to help, and TremensGirl and UPSDude showed up as well. The whole thing only took a couple of hours.

Now I'm back home trying to decide what to do with the rest of my Sunday. It'll be pretty hard to top what's already happened, so I may just stay home. Quit while I'm ahead and all that.

I think that, to carry a metaphor way too far, I think that the arches of my feet are simply getting too sore to bear.

All this fucking tiptoeing around. Like I'm all sneaky and shit.

New flash: I'm not sneaky. Everyone sees me. Everyone knows what I'm doing. Everyone is laughing at my fumbling attempts to pretend that things are normal. That I'm normal.

I'm just getting sick and tired of it. My tiptoeing is not fooling anyone, and so it serves no purpose except to spotlight a failed attempt at deception.

I hate doing this, I did it, for a long time, because I thought it was necessary. The right thing to do. And maybe it was the right thing to do, for a while. But that time has passed.

A lie of omission is still a lie.

---

Also, because I don't want to forget this, and also because I thought it was funny, I had myself a gay cheeseburger tonight.

What's that you say? You didn't know there was such a thing as a gay cheesburger?

Well, I didn't know it either, but I was wrong. As were you.

So I went to Wendy's and, as usual, I ordered the #2 meal plain with a Diet Coke. Then I stepped aside to wait for my order to be prepared.

I guess the burger guy was a trainee or something, because the manager chick had to explain to him what "plain" meant. She said that it should have just cheese on it. He didn't understand, so she said it more clearly. "A plain cheeseburger should have meat, cheese, bread, and nothing else on it," she said.

"Well that's gay," the burger guy replied.

For the record, my gay cheeseburger was very good.

It was weird, though. I had the strangest urge to go dancing after I'd eaten it.

Not cool, dude.

Not fucking cool at all.

Thursday was okay. I went to Rich O's, because I was taking Friday off. All the regular Thursday weirdoes were there encamped in the living room, plus there was an art show, so there were art show weirdoes scampering about as well. I ended up having two pints of NABC Cone Smoker (3833) while I talked with OddlyFamiliarGirl. She distracted me from all the weirdoes, so that was cool.

Then today I developed this overwhelming feeling that something terrible is either happening or about to happen. Even now, several hours later, I can't shake this feeling. I remind myself that I'm not psychic, and that helps a little, but there's still a very strong urge to go hole-up in my basement for a couple of years.

Tonight was my niece's 21st birthday party thingy. We started out at Hard Rock, and then AlliGirl did a fantastic job of hooking everyone up at Rock Bar. They got full V.I.P. treatment, and my niece totally deserved it.

Also, AlliGirl totally disappeared at around 11:00.

Weird.

Oh yeah, I had a Newcastle (9516) in a plastic cup from the Pub.

It was a good day.

A little weird and surreal, but still good.

And now I've got insomnia for some reason.

You don't have to tell me that it's kinda silly for me to be here now. And by here I mean the red room at Rich O's, and by now I mean 3:30 on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. You don't have to tell me, because I sort of already know it. But what I also know is that I've got a damn good reason for being here. Now.

I'm supposed to meet LaptopGirl here at 5:00, to tell her something which she already knows. Not that one thing which she already knows, silly. Another thing. I need to tell her that her computer is probably on its last legs.

Anyway, I got bored at home and I didn't want to start anything new at 3:00, so I came down here instead. And now I'm sitting and writing and enjoying a Barley Island Dirty Helen (262). But mostly, I'm waiting. I do that a lot, it seems.

So this morning, after I took care of some bullshit exciting challenges for work, I took my Monte Carlo to get its oil changed. That wasn't particularly interesting except that this one dude kept bugging me to sell my car to him. Not gonna happen, OilChangeDude, so back the fuck off.

After that, I drove around for a while. I checked out the new NABC brewery location. Not much to see except for this one temporary banner thingy. I took a picture:

Then I went down to the other side of the floodwall and looked at the river for a while. That place used to seem so isolated when I was a teenager. Now it's some kind of stupid park. They've got fucking bandstands and bleachers and shit. Plus, it's closed at night. Much slaking used to take place there at night. I wonder where people go now, when they want to slake.

Then I went to Polly's Freeze for lunch. And I got to sit at my favorite table, so that was cool.

Next I drove to Lanesville. I'd decided that I was apparently retracing my childhood in reverse-order. I mean with the floodwall and Polly's. With the oil-change place and the brewery, not so much. So I went to this park in Lanesville where I used to play until I was six and we moved away. It used to be a pretty shitty (hey, poet and don't know it) park. And I suppose it's still shitty. But they keep adding new buildings to the place. They're all locked, though. Maybe that's where they keep all the cool stuff.

I took pictures of this slide. I can't believe it's still here after all these years. I'd have thought it would have rusted into a heap by now. This slide was always scary as fuck to me, when I'd climb up those shaky chains and then pull and contort myself between the bars to the platform. It was worth it, though, because the sliding-down part was really cool.

Next I drove to my old house there in Lanesville. I keep hoping to see somebody in the yard, but I never have, and today was no different.

Next I went home for a bit, but I got bored and came here to Rich O's.

Oh yeah, now I'm having my second Dirty Helen (282) and it's yummy.

So there.

First, I do want to. And I think it's time. But I can't. I was asked to never do it, remember?

---

Monday I finally had the water pump replaced in the Monte Carlo. So now I can actually drive it again. This is beyond cool to me. I even drove it to work today, risking door-dings in the parking garage. Once I get the exhaust repaired (it's a little LOUD) then there'll be nothing wrong with the car except that its owner still won't really be cool enough for it.

---

One of these years I should probably fix the gutter that was torn loose in January.

---

I think I want to go back to Covington this weekend. I seriously doubt that I'll do any such thing, because last time I checked, Covington wasn't located inside Rich O's.

---

On Monday I got to hang out with NormalGirl and RahRahGirl for a while after work. They were dressed to the nines (whatever that means) in sexy slinky black dresses. I don't think I did a very good job of averting my gaze, especially regarding NormalGirl.

---

I've felt myself starting to lose faith in one of my friends. Not that I ever really had any reason to think that I could trust him completely. But lately I've become a little convinced that he'd betray me in a heartbeat. So, I'm getting a little preemptively angry at him. I'm being stupid, I know.

---

Oh yeah, I managed to poke myself in the eye or something last night while I was sleeping. It's been hurting me all day, and it's a lovely shade of red. I hope it doesn't rot and fall out, but if it does then I'm going to get a glass eye that's brown. That way I can walk around with two differently-colored eyes and see if anyone notices.

---

It's midnight and I still have 3/4 of this Marzen (3591) left in my glass. I'd better get to drinking it.

---

I still have better topics that I want to write about. I still can't motivate myself to write, though, so crap like this is all you get for now.

I'm in a weird mood.

Normally this type of mood would mean that I was about to start spouting drivel, but tonight I don't think it's going to happen.

See, I'm not allowed to write about feeling sad, which I'm not, because then people go, WTF happened this time? And I'm certainly not allowed to write about being happy, which I am, because then people go, OMG Dave is off his rocker again!

I could write about generic and/or hilarious things, like tonight's Indiana (preliminary) election results, but my heart's really not in it.

So I think I'll just go to bed. And maybe I'll dream something good that I won't be able to write about.

I have about a million things I want to write about today. But I think I'm just going to start with the one that's a happy thing.

I had a good day today.

First, it was beautiful outside. A little chilly, but that only matters when I'm outside, and I didn't go outside until it had warmed up to a semi-respectable 60 degrees.

Anyway, my day started, predictably enough, checking email and MySpace and Facebook, looking for some clue as to what the fuck happened Saturday night. Well I found no clues, and I started to get a little sad. But then, then I got the nicest distraction ever when HatGirl called me.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I talked to HatGirl for what seemed like a million years of bliss and, by the time our conversation was over, I was no longer in any danger of being sad. At least not for today.

Guess what I did next!

Guess!

Damn, you guys suck at guessing. Fine I'll just tell you. You'd better sit down.

I replaced the window switch in my Monte Carlo!

Yay!

This is the first time in 23,000 years that the windows in my Monte Carlo have actually been controllable from the driver's door. And, it also the first time in 22,000 years that the door panel has been on said door.

Yay!

Oh yeah, after I went to the parts store to buy a switch, but before I went back home, I went to Polly's Freeze for lunch. All of the food was yummy as always. It kinda sucked that some asshole had my favorite table, though. I guess they haven't gotten around to chiseling Reserved for Dave on the table's concrete surface yet.

After I'd returned home, and replaced the window switch (yay!) I realized a couple of things. Thing the first was that it was a really nice day, weather-wise. Thing the second was that I didn't want to go back into my house on such a nice day.

So, I didn't.

I sat in my garage for several hours, totally kicked-back on my el-cheapo white plastic furniture, and I listened to the radio and I drank a couple of yummy beers and I glared at my phone and I thought about someone something wonderful and I smiled and I laughed.

It was a perfect day.

Then the Sun went down, and the temperature dropped 50,000 degrees, and I came back into my stupid house and watched stupid TV.

Today, I might have killed a horse. Or at least helped to kill the poor thing.

I went to my friend Eric's Derby party. I hadn't been planning to make any bets beyond the pseudo-bet of paying $5 and drawing a horse out of an envelope. I got Anak Kara or something like that. I think it's still running.

But then LaptopGirl and I made an arrangement. I would bet her favorite horses and then split any winnings with her.

This betting frenzy, apparently, spurred BadPickleGirl's interest, and so she ended up placing her own bet.

She bet the filly. The only filly in the thing. The filly that came in second. The filly that, immediately after the race, broke both its front ankles, collapsed on the track, and was euthanized.

That filly.

Anyway, while I mostly rooted for LaptopGirl's (and therefore my) horses, I also found myself silently rooting for BadPickleGirl's horse.

Maybe, I think, if I hadn't rooted for the filly, maybe it wouldn't have run so hard. And then, maybe, it wouldn't have broken its ankles and had to be put down.

I'm not saying its all my fault. That would be silly. But I bet it's at least partly my fault.

Also, there seems to be a pattern lately of horses breaking their legs while running. Maybe it's a conspiracy. Somebody should look into this.

I'd look into it myself, but I'm too busy right now trying to figure out why I just wasted 120 minutes of my life.

I still need to put in a Thursday and Friday beer report. I haven't forgotten.

But now I've got to start getting ready to go to my friend Eric's derby party. I may be accompanied, I may not be accompanied. I may have a second party to go to later, and I may not.

I have a feeling that, by the end of the day, I'll know what it feels like to juggle cats while having a nervous breakdown.

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.

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.

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 had this brilliant idea today. I was going to do something and make someone smile. Not just anyone, mind you, but one certain person.

I drove around and looked around and asked around for what seemed like years, and I couldn't find what I was looking for.

I don't know if, as the saying goes, it's really the thought that counts. I certainly don't know if, in this particular case, learning the tale of my valiant yet ultimately unsuccessful quest was enough to bring a smile to a certain face. But, I like to think that it might have done just that. Just maybe.

That would be cool, if I brought a smile to that face.

I just wanted to jump on here real quick and predict that tonight is going to be the worst night I've had in years.

I'd like to be wrong about this, of course.

The following people forgot my birthday, and now I'm devastated, and I fucking better get a hug to make up for it:

HatGirl

The following people ignored my birthday, even after a reminder, and now I'm devastated, and I fucking wish things were different between us:

LaptopGirl

Neither of these lists should be considered all-inclusive, except maybe the second list, because I don't think I reminded anyone else.

This damn flu has taken things to a very personal level, now. Twice.

The first time was Friday night, when LaptopGirl invited me to Rich O's and I had to decline. Yes, that sucked giant donkey dicks. First time in a million asstillion years that LaptopGirl has invited me to Rich O's, and I had to decline. Woe is me, indeed.

The second time this fucking flu got personal was about an hour ago. I'd forced myself into going to Rich O's, because I'm a stubborn asshole and also because it's Pizza Night. I saw, to my great surprise, that NABC Cone Smoker was back on tap.

Yay! My first beer in a week was going to be one of my all-time favorites!

But not so fast there, Speedy. The Cone Smoker (3177) tasted like shit. Not because there was anything wrong with it, but instead because there's something wrong with me. This damn flu has wreaked havoc on my taste buds. And so now even one of my favorite beers is unenjoyable.

And then my pizza tasted like crap, but I was expecting it by that point. Everything has tasted like crap since last Tuesday. I keep feeling like there's some magical combination of herbs and spices that will wake my mouth back up, and make things taste good again, but I just haven't found it yet.

I've been given the green light to return to work tomorrow, at least for a while. I've been sleeping between 18 and 22 hours a day for a week, and so I don't know if I'll be able to stay up long enough to put in a full day of work, but I'll give it a shot.

So, I'm sick again.

That's my excuse. It's weird. It's almost like there's something wrong with it being 70 degrees one day, and then being 9 degrees a few days later. It's like the human body doesn't like that or something. At least my human body doesn't like it.

My body is, apparently, all pussy.

I've begun to doubt that I will ever feel any better. This has been dragging on for 48 hours. Usually I feel better by this time, but today I actually feel worse than I did before. I was thinking about getting a ride to the hospital or something, but I fear that my sister would take one look at me and take me to the funeral home instead. Cut out the middleman and all that.

Anyway, that's what's been up with me. Happy Valentine's Day, if you're into that sort of thing.

1. Get up at 6:00.
2. There is no step 2.

Dedicated stalkers readers may recall that I was supposed to have a date tonight. ArtGirl and I were supposed to go to see some band at some place.

Well, that didn't happen. The band wasn't going to start until midnight, and that was way too late for me, since I have to work in the morning. Plus, I never could get ahold of ArtGirl.

---

Tonight, I went to Rich O's and I held my breath for three hours. Then, at about 10:00, I breathed sweet refreshing air for about ten seconds. Then, I held my breath again.

For what it's worth, I will not apologize for things I cannot change. I've already done enough of that, and it's never done anyone a bit of good.

---

So my mood held fairly steady at content for most of the night. Maybe, there at the end, it might have jumped up a notch. Maybe.

But there was a brief period earlier when, for about ten seconds, I was filled with joy. That struck me as patently unfair, that something so trivial could affect me that much. I mean, I'm getting way more than I'm giving. The same thing happened last night. I got to be deliriously happy, and the best anyone else got was to have to put up with me.

It just doesn't seem right. I've felt guilty about it, a lot, over the past twenty-four hours or so.

You know what it's like?

It's like I'm a closeted gay guy in a men's locker room. Or a pedophile working as a janitor at an elementary school.

I'm enjoying my life way too much, and nobody is the wiser. I feel like I'm taking advantage of things. Taking too much advantage.

I do not like it, and I do feel guilty about it. But I will not apologize for things I cannot change.

I just realized that she didn't even tell me the date of the wedding. I don't know if they've even set a date. Probably my birthday or something fucked-up like that.

It probably shouldn't matter. But dates are important to me, for some reason.

I want to know the date, so I can plan to be sad, and to have a legitimate reason for my sadness.

That will be pretty rare, I think.

I get to be sane, on that day.

Whenever it is.

I feel all deep and contemplative tonight. Like I could really grab hold of something and make it important through thinking about it and writing about it. I'm not really sure what that something might be, but I'll be up for a while longer, so maybe it'll come to me.

---

I had the strangest dream earlier. It was all bits and flashes. I was married to some famous chick, and the dream was a bunch of snapshots of our life together. But it wasn't sequential at all. We'd be old and retired on a beach, and then we'd be young and just meeting for the first time. It was kinda like a documentary or something, but really weird. Like this one time I was in bed, and I opened my eyes to see this thing coming toward me. You know those inflatable boxing dudes that you punch and they keep standing back up? It was one of those things. It was coming towards me from the far end of the room, holding a shotgun. But then my wife came in and popped it with a knitting needle. That was nice of her.

In another, much later scene, we were at some fancy party, and my wife was crying because she was supposed to sing (I think that's why she was famous, for her singing) but some whore had just sang the exact song she was going to sing. So my wife was very upset and crying. She was so upset, in fact, that she dove into this trash barrel to vomit and hide. I ended up rolling her back to our suite (I think we were at The Rio in Las Vegas) and the police were there asking questions about the popped boxing dude.

---

ArtGirl and I are supposed to go see some band Saturday. I never heard of the band before - it's called Rufus Huff - but MusicalYuppieDude highly recommends them. I'm kind of excited about it. I haven't been to see a band for a song time. Plus, I like ArtGirl. It should be fun.

---

Tonight there were all kinds of storms around here. The tornado siren went off for about two hours straight. All I got was some hard rain, though. Enough to get some water in my basement. I hate it when that happens.

---

My sleep schedule is seriously hosed.

Sunday night, the pizzeria side of the NABC complex was open for some sporting event. Usually, they're closed on Sundays, so it was a special occasion, and I usually go. Just because it's such a rarity. I really couldn't care less about the sporting event.

Anyway, while I was on the way there, OddlyFamiliarGirl called. I'd texted her Friday night because I had a question about astrology. She's into that stuff, she's just not into returning text messages in a timely manner.

While I was talking, and driving, I happened to glance down at my odometer. I quickly said goodbye to OddlyFamiliarGirl and pulled off the road at the earliest opportunity.

The earliest opportunity, it turned out, wasn't quite early enough.

That there, even though it's really hard to see, is the odometer on my truck showing 100001 miles. I think it would have been cool to get a picture of it at exactly 100000 miles, but it wasn't meant to be.

Here's a close-up. Still hard to see, though.

Once at Sportstime The NABC Pizzeria, I had myself a couple pints of their Old Lightning Rod (490). The place was really dead. I guess nobody cared about the sporting event. Or maybe they were all at some cool party to which I wasn't invited.

So they closed the place down at 7:30 or so. I went over to Tucker's and had some cheesesticks and a glass of Guinness (1783). I'd been thinking about having a steak, but I changed my mind for some reason.

And that was Sunday. Pretty exciting, huh?

Monday wasn't anything special except that while I was at Rich O's The NABC Public House, waiting for my pizza and having a yummy NABC Old Lightning Rod (510), OddlyFamiliarGirl and NotHideousGirl came in for a bit. It had been a million jillion gazillion years since I'd seen OddlyFamiliarGirl. It had only been a couple of days since I'd last seen NotHideousGirl, but it always seems longer when it's her. I just thought I'd better mention seeing them, lest I get into trouble for some reason.

Then tonight it was really warm, so I sat out on my swing and enjoyed a Schlenkerla Urbock (286) and smiled a lot. I thought about all of the times I'd sat out there and thought about sad things, and about how much happier I am now. It really doesn't take much to make me happy. Even the tiniest things can do it, especially when the tiniest things are so incredibly huge to me.

No entiendo.

Algo pasó, sin embargo.

Tal vez habría sido bueno.

You know what a tree sounds like, when it falls onto your house?

Well, I'll tell you. I'm an expert on the subject, now.

It sounds like a very loud clap of thunder, except that it doesn't rumble on and trail off the way that thunder does. Nope, it's pretty much a loud BOOM! and that's it. Or, in the case of a tree hitting my house, it's a loud BOOM! followed by the sound of three cats hauling ass to the basement.

When it happened, I was trying to take a nap on my couch. I'd just about managed to fall asleep, and the house lost power. Then, the hail started. Itty-bitty little balls of ice, maybe a quarter of an inch in diameter. They were adorable, bouncing across the wood of my deck like spilled Skittles or something.

Then, the BOOM!

I still haven't really gotten a good look at the tree. Or of the damage it surely caused. It's pretty fucking dark outside. It's a big fucking tree, though. One of the tall skinny variety that populates the Northwest corner of my yard.

I'll take pictures tomorrow sometime. And I'll need to get somebody up here to give me an estimate on repairs. I know there'll be some repairs. I could see that much, even in the dark. But, there's no damage visible from inside my house, so it could certainly be worse.

This entry, such as it is, brought to you by:

Bluegrass Russian Imperial Porter

(bottle) Pours black, with a minimal tan head that faded quickly. Light aroma of roasted malts and chocolate. Flavor was pretty much the same - roasted malt and chocolate. The finish was a little drying, but otherwise the 11% ABV is hidden very well. A very good beer.

WeirdGirl and I slept until after 10:00. We probably would have slept even later, except my sister called with some disconcerting news. Everything, in the end, so to speak, seems to have turned out well. So that's cool, but it did make for several hours of at least slight trepidation.

After WeirdGirl left, I settled into what's become my normal Sunday routine. Doing laundry. Shooting pool. Watching movies. Glaring at my phone.

But that last thing, I think I did more out of habit than out of any real sense of anticipation. I certainly never expected it to make it's little woo-hoo noise. And, of course, it never did. I was oddly okay with its silence, though. Just like I was oddly okay with the silence than ran through my head all day today.

The silence from my phone was familiar. The silence in my head? Not so much, but still, okay.

See, I don't know what happened, but I have to assume that there must have been a good reason for it. I stated my case, for whatever that might be worth. Nothing changed. So I jumped into my time machine. I was right, it's not so bad.

Anyway, some things are funny to me. They have to be funny, lest they be tragic. And I've got enough tragedy, thank you very much.

The thought that a pretty face, or a sexy body, or a friendly personality - the thought that any or all of these things might be enough for me - that thought borders on hilarious.

There's always something missing, it seems. That thing which is intangible and all-important. That's the thing for which the need permeates me. I've found something to fill that need once, twice, maybe three times. I may never find it again. That would be sad, I think.

Desire is more important than satisfaction. Because you can never really have the latter without the former. If you try, it inevitably feels hollow and empty. It feels like a lie, and for good reason.

WeirdGirl and I talked about this stuff for a while, our breathing still synchronized, in the late hours before sleep took us. We've discussed it before, and it's starting to sink in, the things that I say. She's finally starting to understand me, and her understanding will probably signal the end of this. Whatever this is.

Some of the time, a lot of the time, I imagine that people will read my drivel and figure that I've been drinking. A lot. And on those occasions, I imagine that people will blame alcohol for my drivel.

Perfectly understandable. Usually wrong, but understandable.

Tonight, less than an hour ago, I wrote some drivel. I have been drinking tonight, but I haven't drank very much.

Nope, tonight was a tame night, alcohol-wise.

Now, I'm sitting here waiting for my doorbell to ring. After it rings, I will be able to forget the last several hours, and I will live in the present for a while. Until we awaken in the morning, physically refreshed and emotionally numbed. After some caffeine and nicotine, reality will set back in for both of us.

It will be nice, while it lasts. But, in so many ways, too many ways, it will be a lie.

That's pretty good timing. She's here, and just when I was about to spout some more drivel.

I would say that, if you think you know me at all - even if it's only from what you've read in this journal - then you would be fully justified in being proud of me right now.

Me? I'm not quite so sure. But then, I know more about the situation than you do. I alone, I think, really know what's at stake.

After tonight, I'm certainly not disgusted with myself, as has so often been the case lately. I did a tiny thing, which I felt needed to be done, and so I got to come home with a slight feeling of accomplishment. Instead of that feeling of cowardice to which I'd become so accustomed.

I await any ramifications with a little bit of fear, and a little bit of anticipation. Odds are, there will be no discernable ramifications at all. But I'm the only one who suspects that it was all a waste of time and effort. Others silently applauded me tonight, after only a little bit of encouragement from me.

I'm not sure if I did something good, and I'm not sure if I did something bad. What I'm sure of is that, finally, I did something.

Finally.

I deny this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

Today was, of course, AlliDay.It wasn't too bad at The Pub. A little more crowded than I'd have preferred, and one shithead took my seat while I was outside making a phone call. But I got to talk to AlliGirl in little snippets, and her sunny disposition helped to brighten my mood a little. Also, it was freaking cold today.

---

I refuse this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

I also found out something pretty interesting and a little intriguing. Some little gestures, which I never really paid any attention to at all, back when they were happening. I've always admitted that I have a problem taking hints. This may have just been more of that, but I really think that it was more of a timing problem. Like, six hours earlier, and everything might have turned out quite differently. But, by the time the gestures started happening, it was too late. I was utterly distracted by then. Oh well. I'd have only given us about a week, anyway.

---

I ignore this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

After work, I stopped at Rich O's for a beer and a pizza. I had several insane minutes when I first arrived, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. Just me, being weird. Plus, I had PearlGirl look, and she verified what I'd been babbling about.

The resemblance was really uncanny.

---

I reject this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

I might get to see HatGirl this weekend. It's been a million gazillion years. Seems that way, anyway. I hope hope hope I get to see her.

---

I doubt this new reality, and it slams into me.

---

Tomorrow is Thursday. VacuumLady will come and clean my house and terrorize my cats for a while. I'll come home and immediately start slobbing the place up again. It's the kitchen that I can't seem to keep up with. And my bedroom. Those damn piles of laundry are back with a vengeance.

---

I am riddled with holes, yet I still stand. It's not that I'm particularly strong, I don't think. That's not why I'm, successfully so far, refusing to let myself fall. Again. Over this. It's just that I know that my falling would serve no purpose except to make things worse than they already are. And it would also prove Everyone On Earth right. I refuse to fall and, by refusing, I laugh in the face of Everyone On Earth. The fuckers.

---

I've been having a problem with sleep lately, and I think I've figured out why. Because, waking up to this new reality, that's the worst time for me. This is something that's certainly different, this time around.

My mind still clouded by the fading fog of sleep, only the most powerful thoughts shine through. And I feel myself falling, sliding, de-evolving into that past version of myself that nobody liked very much. That I didn't like very much. So I fight with everything that I have, and it always seems touch and go for those first few minutes while the fog fades away. Then, somehow, so far anyway, I emerge triumphant.

So, I don't think it's really sleep that's the problem. It's the fear of waking up that's getting to me.

---

I accept this new reality, and still, it keeps fucking relentlessly slamming into me.

Today was, as the entry title suggests, kinda boring.

I managed to impress myself by staying awake all day, despite having only three hours of sleep since Sunday at 7:00. I just got wrapped up in this work bullshit opportunity and, before I knew it, it was time to come home. So, yay for me!

Then I took a short nap, being very careful to keep it short, so that I could have a reasonable chance at getting to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight. We'll see how that plan works. I had really terrible dreams about Everyone On Earth turning Everyone Else On Earth against me.

Also tonight, I spent a couple of hours talking with StupidGirl. She hasn't made up her mind about coming here. I haven't made up my mind about whether I want her to come here. So, basically, nothing has changed.

It would, however, be nice to see her right now. I could certainly use the distraction. But I want her, or any girl, to be more than a distraction for me. It was completely unfair to MixedSignalGirl. It's been completely unfair to WeirdGirl, though she doesn't seem to mind as much as I do. I'm just trying to keep from repeating that same mistake yet again.

Not until I'm ready. And, if I'm never ready, then so be it.

Anyway, maybe by May I won't need the distraction any more. Or maybe by May I'll be dating someone local, and then StupidGirl sleeping over would be awkward at best.

Haha. Dating someone local. Having a real relationship with a real possibility for a future.

Hahaha. I kill me.

Every now and then I have a dangerous kind of thought. I don't like it, not even a little bit, but the same theme keeps resurfacing.

My stupid heart tries to convince my brain that maybe I should just strap one on, so to speak.

Be a man!

That's always the underlying charge.

I think that it's a good thing that my brain isn't quite as stupid as my heart.

---

I can't believe that I have to go back to work tomorrow. Furthermore, I can't believe that I'm still awake right now. I forced myself out of bed, after about three hours of sleep, at 7:00 this morning. I'd thought that this would make me sufficiently tired tonight, so that I might get to sleep at a decent hour.

Ha!

It's been a rough last few days off of work. Tomorrow will bring a totally different kind of turmoil.

I hate change.

---

Oh yeah, before I forget. I wrote an entry late Sunday night. In that entry, I made a couple of cryptic references to a couple of girls. Neither of the girls referenced are people I saw over the weekend. I guess there was confusion. I hope I just cleared it up.

---

I guess that's it for now.

Hit the snooze, hit the snooze, hit the snooze.

Okay, fine. Get up, take a shower. Check email. Nothing.

Go to work.

Boring, boring boring, boring, Hey, it's AlliDay!

Boring, boring.

Lunch time, finally. Hi, AlliGirl!

Lunch is over.

Bye, AlliGirl!

Boring, boring, boring, boring.

Yay! I'm off work until Tuesday! Yay!

Nap time.

Hit the snooze, hit the snooze.

Okay, fine. Get up, take a shower. Check email. Nothing.

Go to Rich O's.

Boring, boring.

LaptopGirl is here!

Yay!

She smiled at me!

Yay!

LaptopGirl is gone now.

Boo!

Boring, boring, boring, boring.

TremensGirl is hot.

Boring, boring, boring.

Go home.

Check email. Hey, there's one from HatGirl!

Yay!

Compose a drunken reponse to HatGirl.

Is it too much?

Nope, it's safe. Send it.

Write a stupid entry.

Happy Birthday to RockGirl!

If her stupid work phone had voicemail, I was going to leave a happy birthday song there.

But, noooooooo, it's a phone from the 1950s or something - before voicemail was invented.

Anyway, Happy Birthday!

Yay for RockGirl!

The first question tonight was asked by me.

It was a stupid question.

The answer was, "Wednesday, for a while."

I suppose that a small part of me must have expected such an answer. Otherwise I don't think I'd have ever asked.

But, I did ask.

Because I am a dumbass.

---

The second question tonight was asked to me, in response to a question I'd asked.

I paraphrase slightly.

"Where is she? Is she okay?" I'd asked.

"I don't care," she answered. "I'm mortified," she answered. "What was I supposed to do," she asked, "just leave the bill and the mess behind?"

"Fuck yes," is what I should have answered. "The bill will still be here tomorrow, and the mess will be taken care of. Go make sure she's okay."

Everyone on Earth knew the answer to her question. Everyone except her, apparently. I myself was too shocked to answer at all.

---

The third question tonight was also asked of me, as part of a discussion I was having.

The answer is, "The plugs are exactly the same, but I get no sound whatsoever. I guess you need some kind of power source. It was a good idea, though."

I feel like people are starting to assume things about me.

This does not necessarily mean that I'm being paranoid. It might mean that, but it's not a rule or anything. It could be that I'm just having regular thoughts, and I just happen to have a lot of similar thoughts at the same time.

Kind of like, or so I've heard, all of the air molecules in a room, bouncing around the way they do, I've heard that it's at least possible that they'll all find themselves crammed into one corner at the same time.

And then anyone unfortunate enough to be in an other corner would explode or something, because nature abhors a vacuum.

The thing is, I've pretty much got one thing on my mind. Or at the forefront of my mind at least. There are other things. Really, there are. Seriously.

Okay, fuck you if you don't believe me when I say that I think about other things. There's no rule for that either.

When I'm in charge of things, there'll be a fucking rule. It'll be right after the "No pain for HatGirl, ever" rule.

Anyway, I try pretty hard to not write about this one thing that's on my mind. Sometimes my abstention is easy, sometimes it's pretty much the opposite of easy.

The opposite of easy would be hard, for those of you having a tough time keeping up.

It bugs me, though, when I don't feel like I'm in control of myself. See, there's all this stuff that happens, all this stuff that I do and think and say, and I hardly ever write about any of it. Because, I fear, once my fingers start their little tappy-dance on my keyboard, I'm liable to type just about anything.

Anything could, by definition, be bad.

---

There was a dude at Rich O's, Tuesday night. I'm pretty sure I never spoke to him before in my life. He told me, "Dave, for what it's worth, I enjoy reading your blog."

So, "Hi, DudeINeverTalkedToBeforeInMyLife! I'm glad you enjoy the blog!"

---

Also present, Tuesday night, was the girl who, as near as I can figure, was my third crush ever. I'm pretty sure that, in some strange subliminal subconscious way, I'm pretty sure that I've had a crush on this particular girl since the second grade.

So, basically, Pangea split into separate continents, and right after that I got a crush on this girl.

I do not believe that those two events were related.

---

Today was, of course, AlliDay. So I went to The Pub for lunch and I talked to AlliGirl for the first time since the New Year's Eve fiasco. She's just so damn cute, no way can I stay mad at her.

---

And now, I can feel my self-control slipping away. So I'm going to stop typing now before I start typing about how much I...

The last couple of nights have been nice. It's been so warm that I've been able to sit out on my swing, enjoy a tasty beverage, and contemplate things for a while. Life and love and the lack of both, mostly.

Things might become interesting here in a few months, around Derby time, as StupidGirl has hinted at making a trip here. But a lot can happen between now and then. I certainly don't want to be pinning too many hopes - or fears - on something that's still in such early stages of planning.

Not even planning, really.

More like thinking about.

Which is totally fair, because that's pretty much all I've been doing for the last couple of hours.

Should I look at this as an opportunity to be saved from this quagmire I'm in, or as more of a temporary distraction? Perhaps I should see it as a giant turd, and my life would be a fan.

Meanwhile, I can't even believe that it's almost 2:00 in the flipping morning. I need to learn how to sleep.

My recent absence hasn't been caused by any great drama or anything like that. I've just been busy doing boring stuff. There's this pool tournament that started on Friday. I usually play in the thing, but this year all I did was go watch for a while. On Friday, and on Saturday, and on Sunday.

It's cool to be around pool players for a change.

Anyway, I've gone to the tournament, and then I've gone to Rich O's, and then I've come home. That's been my life for the past three days and nights. Like I said, boring.

Oh yeah, last night after Rich O's I went to this Mac's place that I don't like. I wanted to listen to some karaoke for a while. It was fun I guess. Nobody was any good, though. Also, I think I'm going to stop calling that place Mac's and start calling it Sluttopia. Or maybe Whoreapolis. I haven't decided.

I never said this would be an exciting entry. Or maybe I did, in the title of the thing. Oops.

...will actually not be complete until tomorrow.

But, that's okay.

It's still a good deed.

So there.

In the year 2008, I resolve to...

...drink more beer than is probably healthy for me, but it will only be good beer, so my snobbish ways can continue.

...not lose even an ounce of weight. And, even if I do manage to lower the scale because of illness or some such, I resolve to immediately gain it all back, and then add a few extra pounds just to teach myself a lesson.

...blow minor things way out of proportion, lose sight of what's really important, and just generally make a ass out of myself over trivial bullshit.

...ignore anything that might be considered encouraging. Not that I expect anything encouraging to ever happen, but I resolve to ignore such things, just in case. It's preemptive and stuff.

...automatically assume that most people are idiots or assholes or whores or sluts until they prove otherwise. And, furthermore, I resolve to immediately revert to my initial assessment the first time anyone does something I don't like.

I was about 40 minutes late, but I did have my little year-end ceremony séance tonight. It took place in my garage, because standing outside in that damn wind would have been suicide.

This year, I wasn't nearly as eloquent as I've been in the past. This year, it was too fucking cold, and I was too fucking pissed.

So I basically griped for eight minutes or so before I finally got to the good stuff. The relevant stuff. And, by then, my adrenaline was flowing too strongly for me to speak coherently. So I quit.

Oh, well. Maybe next year.

I've been trying to decide if tonight was a good night or not. You be the judge.

Good: I feel much better, health-wise, than I've felt for days.

Bad: I didn't get to see LaptopGirl, so now it's been two weeks since I was so blessed.

Good: PearlGirl gave me a little card that said I was Hott with two Ts.

Bad: There were a bunch of weirdoes who scared me away from the living room area.

Good: I got a boner.

Bad: I texted the girl about my boner.

Good: There was a girl who I thought might have been a blast from my past.

Bad: She turned out to be the underage daughter of FirstGirl - and I'd never seen her before. She just looked like that other girl.

Good: I had a yummy NABC Cone Smoker (3051) and a glass and a half of yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout (2370).

Bad: I couldn't finish that second glass of Rogue, because I'm a lightweight.

Good: The place was full of random hot girls.

Bad: The place was full of random hot girls.

Good: My pizza was yummy.

Bad: I'd been hoping to split a pizza with LaptopGirl.

Bad: I'm a shithead.

Good: I'm an honest shithead.

Bad: Tonight I missed, in no particular order; HatGirl, MixedSignalGirl, LaptopGirl, SassyGirl, and NotHideousGirl.

Good: I'm excited that I'll get to see AlliGirl tomorrow.

Bad: When I left, I saw LaptopGirl's car in the parking lot, so I should have stayed until she came back.

All in all, I guess the night was a wash.

I guess I'm going to live. Whether it was the nasal spray that my sister brought me, or merely the passage of enough time, or the two-hour hot bath I took, I'm feeling much better now.

Just in time to go back to work tomorrow.

My head feels like it's got hardened cement in it, and my chest hurts from all the coughing and sneezing I've done, but my fever is gone. And the fever is what really knocked me out. Even though it gave me several cool dreams, including one about an orgy that I will never forget.

Tomorrow is supposed to be AlliDay, but either The Pub is closed or AlliGirl just has the day off work. So that sucks, but Thursday will make a fine substitute.

I expect to be the only person at work for the next three days. They gave us the choice between the three days after Christmas or the three days after New Year's Day off, and I took the latter. I don't know why. Probably so I can get some work done this week, since there won't be any distractions. Everyone else picked the days after Christmas.

I've been given token invites to a few things next Monday. I don't want it to seem like I'm holding out for a better offer, but that's exactly what I'm doing.

This entry is not meant to be used as a timetable of my last several days. I can pretty much guarantee that I've got the order of some things mixed-up - especially for Friday and Saturday. So, unless I specifically say that a certain thing happened on a certain day/night, it's just a guess. You have been warned.

---

Thursday for lunch I went back to The Pub for AlliDay, take two. It was much better - they weren't nearly as crowded and I got to talk to AlliGirl several times. Note that I've switched to calling her AlliGirl instead of BikerGirl. I doubt that I was really fooling anyone.

---

Either Friday or Saturday, I got to see TeamHotness for a bit. They'd been hiding out over at the Sportstime side of things, but I caught them in the parking lot as they were leaving. So that was cool.

---

Oh yeah, Friday night my sisters and I had our Christmas thingy. One of the things I got was a six-pack of bottles of Harpoon Winter Warmer, and I'm told that it can be purchased in Louisville.

Yay!

Neisha's husband Chris and I had a bottle each. It was as good as I remembered. Now I've got four bottles calling to me from my fridge, and if I ever get over this damn death-flu I'm going to drink them.

---

Saturday night this one fucker who I hate decided to sit with me and HatGirl and LuckyFucker. He then decided to try to talk to us. As if. What a shithead.

---

This morning I had a sex dream. It was more of an orgy dream, actually. And a lot of girls I know were in it. I wrote a draft entry about the dream, then sent it to RockGirl for her opinion on whether I should post it or not. Her advice was to change all of the girls' names. I've decided not to post it at all, because changing the names would render the dream meaningless.

---

I've been sneezing today, and sometimes I've sneezed out my eye. I don't mean that my eye has popped out - just some of the snot comes out of the corner of my eye when I sneeze. Gross, right?

---

Dina just came by and got the shrimp tray for tonight's festivities. She also bought me a thingy of nasal spray. I hope it works. And I hope I don't sneeze the stuff through my eye, because I bet that would really burn.

---

I'm going back to sleep now.

You know what's attractive?

When you've been getting more and more sick for three days, and then you get to the point where your sinuses are draining so quickly and so relentlessly that you're forced to sleep with tissues stuffed into your nostrils.

That's what's attractive.

Yeah, so I'm sick. Some kind of stupid death-flu, combined with that never-fully-awake feeling that comes from getting way too much sleep. I myself have slept for almost twenty-four hours straight. I emerged only long enough to drive to the store and buy a bunch of tissues and a shrimp tray. And today's sleep followed the eighteen or nineteen hours from Saturday.

So I'm pretty well fucking rested, I think.

I don't know what's going to happen with the holiday obligations. I really only have one left. I'm supposed to go to my grandmother's house tomorrow night. It's a long tradition, that we all go there and pose for pictures and stuff. Plus, that's what the shrimp tray is for. But I'm not going to go and risk infecting anyone - especially not my grandmother. She's got enough problems.

I have nothing else planned for the next two days. There's a wrapped and labeled present, for a child I've never met - it's sitting in my car. I guess I won't be allowed to give that gift after all. That's okay, though. I think I understand that it would be weird. Besides, now I'm all sick and stuff, so any gift handoff would be too risky.

I'm going back to bed now.

Buy stock in Puffs plus tissues.

Today, not much of anything happened.

I worked. I went to Rich O's after work, and got a pizza. I came home, ate some of my pizza, and took a nap. I watched some DVDs. That's pretty much it.

I have this thing I want to write about, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to write the thing without making it seem like I'm being judgmental. So I'm not writing about it, yet. Problem is, it's got my brain so clogged up that I can't think of anything else to write.

Tomorrow is AlliDay. Maybe that will unclog my brain a little.

Yesterday we had snow and sleet and freezing rain here, pretty much all day. This was strange, because Al Gore keeps saying that won't happen.

I spent my day at home. Messing with a web page design for LaptopGirl in between power outages. I'd planned to do my Christmas shopping, but I didn't feel like dealing with the idiots on the roads. They're bad enough even when the weather's good.

Anyway, a few times in the past, when it's snowed, people have been known to puss out and cower in their homes instead of going out. And, when Rich O's is really dead, they'll close up early. I was a little fearful that they'd be closing early last night, so I went there very early. Like at 6:00 or so. I figured that if it was dead in there I could at least buy a growler to take home.

But it was okay. The place was fairly full. A bunch of people I know were in the living room area, and for some reason they saved the throne for me. So that was nice of them.

I had myself a pint of NABC Cone Smoker, and enjoyed that immensely while I talked with TremensGirl and MusicalYuppieDude and NotHideousGirl. NotHideousGirl and I have agreed that we will each pretend that we share fault for our crumbling friendship. This is a good compromise, I think.

At about 8:00, I remembered that it was the Ides of December, so I got myself into a bad mood. I briefly toyed with the idea of just going home. Actually, I obsessed over that idea for quite a while. But eventually I decided to just have another Cone Smoker (2881) and stop being a baby.

At one point during the night, I observed this conversation:

I will never understand women.

I had the brilliant idea to text BikerGirl and invite her to Rich O's. I'd thought that maybe having NotHideousGirl and me both there might be enough to entice her. This thought helped to slow the descent of my mood, and I ordered another Cone Smoker.

But then I remembered that BikerGirl was working.

I drank about 2/3 (2895) of my beer, but I saw no point in staying any longer, so I came home at 10:00 or so.

Found out today that BikerGirl will not be leaving The Pub and, by extension, my life.

This is great news. Frankly, I was getting pretty sick of people leaving my life.

I'm feeling much better, thanks for wondering. It's always like this with me. I get all worked up over something and then, well I suppose I get it out of my system. Or maybe I just get used to it.

I guess I'll just go back to what I've always done. I'll wait. I'm good at waiting, and I'm pretty sure that my wait won't be in vain. Eventually, something good will happen.

---

A guy at work shot himself this morning. It's in the paper, so I guess I'm allowed to mention it here. I didn't know the guy. I just knew who he was. I imagine that a lot of people would say exactly the same thing. Maybe that was part of his problem.

I fully support a person's right to end their own life. To choose when their life will end. We get so few real choices as it is. But I don't support shooting yourself at work, where someone will have to find your body, and where someone will have to clean up the mess, and where someone will be traumatized. It would be much better, I think, to just disappear and never come back.

---

The other day I had this totally brilliant idea for an entry. For an article, actually. If I ever get around to writing the thing, and if I do as good of a job with it as I'd like, it may end up being my main contribution to mankind. That would be cool.

---

It's hard to stop counting days. I count the days until something good, or I count the days after something good. Because, right now, I have nothing specific to look forward to, I'm mostly counting the latter. Then, when that number gets high enough, I get to freak out a little. So maybe I do have something to look forward to.

---

Yesterday it took, I shit you not, an hour and a half for my pizza to arrive. And then, when I finally got it, it was ice cold. So much for enjoying Pizza Night.

So today I went back to Rich O's after work for another attempt. Rogue Chocolate Stout is back on tap finally, so I had one of those (2196). Right before I finished that glass, I got a little reckless.

Dave's Smoked Chocolate

(mixture) I mixed Rogue Chocolate Stout and NABC Cone Smoker in a 1:1 ratio. I'd been expecting these two very different flavors to elevate each other to new heights. But that's not what happened. They pretty much cancelled each other out. Good thing I didn't waste too much beer with this experiment.

Today's pizza arrived in about ten minutes, and it was yummy.

---

One of the things that keeps tempting me is the fact that, with about fifteen minutes, I could end all of this confusion. I could correct all of these misinterpretations. I could answer all questions. Now, knowing myself as I do, I realize that I'd try to stretch that fifteen minutes out to like a thousand years, but I think fifteen minutes is all I'd really need.

---

I just thought of something else, but it's worth an entry all on its own.

The odds were certainly low, but they've released the names of the Omaha shooting victims, and I didn't know any of them. So that's good, for me at least. I wonder what I'd have done if my ex-wife or one of the kids had been on that list. Probably nothing. I'm good at doing nothing.

So, I'm back. Got back yesterday evening.

I've been struggling for a week now. Trying to decide what I was going to write about my trip. Besides the usual stuff, I mean. Like the yummy beer I drank, and the boring conference I endured, and the video poker I played.

But there were other things. Things which I haven't quite figured out. What happened? Why did it happen? What will happen next? Will anything happen next? Do I want anything to happen next?

And then, then there was some crap that happened back here, while I was gone. And I ask myself the same five questions.

I don't want to lie, here, in this blog. But neither do I think that telling the whole truth would be a good thing. And I don't particularly want to guess.

Hence, my struggling.

---

Anyway, last night was much more normal for me. I went to Rich O's, that decision having been made for me by the simple fact that LaptopGirl was thinking about maybe going to Rich O's.

It was a nice night. I took it easy on the beer, though.

Happy Birthday to LaptopGirl!

Take that, universe!

This year, I got to say it without any hesitation whatsoever!

Took too long of a nap tonight. Might have slept all night except my phone Woo Hooed at me at about 11:30.

A message from LaptopGirl!

Woo Hoo!

Anyway, this morning I was in a bit of a pickle. As far as I knew, I had about 83 cents to my name, and I was nearly out of gas. So I had the brilliant idea to actually check my bank balance instead of just assuming that I was broke.

Almost $94 in there, on the day before payday. I've been eating dirt for the past week for nothing, it seems.

So I was able to gas up my truck and make it to work. Later, with my newfound wealth, I was able to go and observe AlliDay at The Pub. BikerGirl got her hair cut off and dyed slightly red. She looks hot. I told her that it was like I'd discovered that she had a hot twin sister.

I ended up having a pint and a half of Newcastle (8139), and a dude from work paid for it.

Then, after work, I went to Rich O's and had a Cone Smoker (2128). While I was there, Bubbles came in, and she'd messed with her hair as well. Went from blonde to completely black. A huge difference.

I was talking with NotHideousGirl's ex-husband, and this one chick I never saw before. The subject of hitting a deer on the road came up, and I mentioned that I'd met MixedSignalGirl when she'd hit a deer while driving in front of me. The chick I never saw before said that she'd hit a deer once, too. Turns out that the chick and MixedSignalGirl have the same name.

Weird.

Now, after my nap that ran on for way too long, I'm wide awake at 1:00 AM. I'm having a glass of Cone Smoker (2146) in lieu of anything with caffeine, so I hope I'll be able to grab some sleep in a couple of hours.

Have you ever noticed how cats, if they're caught doing something clumsy, quite often their first reaction is to lick their ass?

I wonder if that's supposed to distract us, possibly make us forget the clumsiness we've just witnessed, or if it's somehow intended to enhance our viewing experience.

---

I think I've figured out why things went so horribly awry. It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't directly her fault. This realization makes me feel a little better about the whole situation. It still sucks though.

---

It makes me sad when pretty girls are sad. I know that I shouldn't care whether they're pretty or not, but I do.

---

Last night I bought a half-gallon growler of NABC Cone Smoker. I plan to drink some of it tonight, but first I have to go to the store and get some food. I'm starving over here.

---

Tomorrow is November 12th, so I plan to go to my dad's old hangout and have a Falls City in his honor. Except that I'm not sure they make Falls City anymore, so I might have to drink a toast to Dad with something else. He can, however, rest assured that it will be something equally horrible.

---

I've been in this giant gaping financial hole since August. Finally, this Thursday, I hope to be able to climb out of it. This will be thanks to my holiday bonus, which always comes in the middle of November.

---

Tomorrow I start another week of being on-call for work. I am so not looking forward to it.

---

I guess that's it. I'm going to the store now. Maybe I'll drink a lot of beer and write some drivel later.

Today was Wednesday, otherwise known as AlliDay. One of the highlights of my week, when I can sneak away from work and go have lunch at The Pub and talk to BikerGirl for a bit. Work has been crazy lately, but today I did manage to spare an hour. I had a nice Newcastle (8109) for lunch, and talked to BikerGirl for a bit.

At the end of the day I got my hairs cut, then I stopped at Rich O's for a quick Schlenkerla Marzen (2056). I don't think that my spiffy new good mood quite fits in with going to Rich O's after work anymore. I haven't felt happy there after work for a long time.

Anyway, I had a dream tonight. I think I can remember enough about it to describe it. I'll try.

I was at Rich O's. But it wasn't the real Rich O's. It was the same one from this dream. Instead of there being a single living room area, with couches and stuff, there were dozens of them scattered about. I was sitting in one such area when she came in.

Some hot blonde girl. I never saw her before in my life, but she seemed to know me. She certainly acted like she did. Within about 10 seconds after her arrival, we were making out like teenagers. So, pretty much exactly like my waking life. Not.

The blonde girl and I went outside for some reason. I asked her what her name was. "Zwanka," she said.

So that was weird.

When we came back inside, there was a huge crowd waiting to hear some band play, and Zwanka and I got separated. I was looking around for her and I saw a baby sitting on the floor all by itself.

I somehow knew that this was LaptopGirl's baby. But I hadn't seen her anywhere around, and nobody seemed to be paying any attention to the baby. I was afraid that somebody might step on it or abduct it or something. So I scooped it up and started walking around looking for LaptopGirl.

The baby and I talked as we walked around. He was about a year old, but quite a good little talker. He helped me look for his mother, but it seemed that just about every girl in the place had dark hair and glasses, so we kept going on little wild goose chases. It was fun though. I remembered thinking that I hadn't held a baby in a very long time.

Then I saw that Dan was bartending, so I asked him to put the baby up on this shelf behind the bar. That way, if LaptopGirl came in, she'd be sure to see her baby up there. I asked the baby if he wanted to go play with Uncle Dan for a while, and he agreed. So Dan put the baby up on the shelf, and I went looking for Zwanka some more.

I never did find Zwanka, but the next time I glanced at the bar, the baby was gone, and Dan gave me a thumbs-up.

But, Zwanka?

Where did that come from?

Okay, so I was in the restroom at work when it happened. By it, I of course mean that my building burst into flames.

Well, maybe not really. But I couldn't really know that, could I? I was in the restroom, busily doing restroom stuff. There were storms in the area, and there was a very loud crack, and then the fire alarm went off.

I have some questions. If you're taking a shit, and you fear that your building has just burst into flames, what actions should you take before you run screaming from the restroom?

Should you wipe? Pull your pants back up?

Should you wash your hands?

These questions, they haunt me now.

Anyway, it turns out that lightning had struck our building in such as way as to set off the fire alarm, but we didn't find that out for a while. Because it was raining pretty hard, we only mostly evacuated. We went to the bottom floor, near the door but not quite outside the door.

Then all the firemen (I actually do think it was all of them) came and started checking everything out. I texted NormalGirl that I might be late for our date, because my building might be on fire.

Then one of the firemen told us about how our building wasn't on fire, so we went back to work, and I texted NormalGirl back that I'd be on time after all.

---

Later, as I was leaving work, I got a message from NormalGirl that she was on the Sportstime side. So, that's where I went. It's weird on that side.

I'd been hoping that NormalGirl wouldn't wear anything cute, so that I might be able to get to know her better without all the distractions, but alas, she was wearing a cute hoodie and had cute sunglasses on top of her head. But I persevered. We had a nice time, I think. I poured on all of the charm I could muster, and I think we were each genuinely interested in what the other had to say.

It was fun.

Let's see, to start off the evening, I had a Delirium Tremens (1053). NormalGirl was having an Upland Wheat. We shared a pizza and some conversation. For the next beer, we split a bottle of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (2279) on my recommendation. She seemed to like it okay.

As the conversation continued, I had a bottle of Schlenkerla Marzen (2022). I had NormalGirl try a small sample of that. She didn't gag, so that was cool.

We have agreed that, since I chose the time and the venue for this date, she will be in charge of the next one. I hope that the next one happens. I like what I've seen and heard so far.

---

After NormalGirl left, I went over to Rich O's and talked to MusicalYuppieDude while I had another Marzen (2039).

I'm a little bit torn right now. There are several things that I'd like to write about. But it's late, and I'm tired. So I have to be very brief.

---

I got to see HatGirl - Yay! - tonight, for the first time in a million zillion gazillion years. It was very nice to see her.

---

There was about a 40/60 ratio of girls to guys at Rich O's tonight. That would be strange enough, but what made it even more strange was that the entire 40% consisted of hot girls. There wasn't a bowser in the bunch.

---

I had four bottles of Schlenkerla Marzen (2006) tonight. All were yummy.

---

There were a lot of weirdoes tonight. Many more than usual. The presence of all the hot girls somehow turned all of the guys into weirdoes. Wouldn't be the first time, but I've rarely seen such outbreaks at Rich O's.

---

Toward the very end of the night, I began to feel some of my recent resolve deteriorate. Luckily, they declared last call before I did or said anything stupid.

---

It was a nice night. I was in a good mood even before I got to see HatGirl, and after that I was in a fantastic mood. A couple of people and events tried to spoil it, but tonight my mood was invincible. I don't expect this invincibility to last very long. The good things never last.

---

Okay, that's it. I'm tired.

I'm dewrinkling some clothes now, so I have a little bit of time to kill. This one stupid shirt probably won't get dewrinkled, and I'll have to iron it. I hate it when that happens.

Yesterday I had a dentist appointment. It was routine, except for the girl who did most of the work. She was far from routine. She was gorgeous. Way too pretty to be working in a dentist's office. I mean, I generally like for any girls sticking their fingers in my mouth to be of reasonable appearance. I wouldn't want some old hag doing it, neither would I want a super-model doing it. At least not in that context, super-models should all feel free to stick fingers in my mouth at other times. And this chick was as pretty as any super-model I've ever seen. Especially when she had her cute little mask on, and all I could see were her incredible eyes.

So I spent all of my time in that chair thinking about baseball, so I wouldn't spring an erection and distract the poor girl as she worked inside my mouth with sharp metal utensils.

The greatest moment that I ever personally witnessed in baseball was several years ago. The Mariners were playing the Indians, and Kenny Lofton had spent about a week calling Randy Johnson a headhunter. When the game started, Lofton was the lead-off batter, and for the first pitch Randy threw a fastball straight at Kenny's head.

A big to-do ensued. There was no fight, but there was a lot of arguing. The umpire gave Randy a warning not to do that again, ever, young man.

Things settled back down, and the game resumed. For the second pitch of the game, Randy threw another fastball straight at Lofton's head, then he walked off the field. Classic.

Anyway.

Last night I went to Rich O's. I hadn't been planning to go, but LaptopGirl wanted me to take a look at her computer. That's not a euphemism. Her computer has been acting up.

So I had a nice pleasant evening talking with LaptopGirl. It didn't seem as surreal as it has lately, so I guess maybe I'm getting used to this new reality. I hope so.

Her computer is running Vista, and it's got some crap wrong with it. I managed to correct one glaring problem, but the rest will have to wait until we can scan the thing for spyware. I'm fairly convinced that's what's causing most of her computer woes. Also, the damn thing bluescreened on us three or four times. I didn't think Vista was ever supposed to bluescreen, and I'd definitely thought that Microsoft would have done away with that particular anachronism by now.

Like I said, it was a nice night. I had most of two bottles of yummy Koningshoeven Quad (722), and I had most of three bottles of yummy Schlenkerla Marzen (1938). LaptopGirl had the rest.

Later, the place turned back into a sausagefest. I stayed around for a little while, though. Talking to MusicalYuppieDude and a couple of other guys. I left just before they started kicking every out.

One of the cops who'd approached me took my wrists, one at a time, pulled them down to my lower back, and handcuffed me. I didn't resist at all. My total cooperation didn't deter Officer Bullhorn, who by this was time was out of his car and therefore just Officer Loudmouth, from repeating, "Do not resist the officer, Do not resist the officer."

The thought crossed my mind, to scream out that I wasn't resisting shit, but I didn't. I was in serious trouble for some reason, and I was actually fearing for my life a little bit. I remembered that a lot of police cars have video cameras in them, and I resolved to make sure that any recording of what I suspected was my impending murder would show that I'd cooperated completely.

These cops were going to fry. Not that it would do me much good by that time.

Once I was cuffed, they pulled me to my feet that leaned me over against the hood of my car. They frisked me and found nothing. Officer Loudmouth said something about how they were going to search my car because of a felony or something. By this time I wasn't paying attention at all. I was mentally preparing my will, and wondering how my sisters and my dad would take the news of my death.

While one of the cops was searching my car, the radios in the cop cars crackled to life. "Blah blah robbery suspect in custody blah blah," they said. Even though I couldn't see anything, what with my face pressed against the hood of my car and all, I could sense the cops looking at each other with surprise and confusion.

The cop who still had his gun drawn, at least I think it was him, pulled out his microphone thing and talked into it.

The radios cracked some more. I couldn't make out anything, this time. But a lot of amazing things happened right away.

The cops all whispered to each other for a minute or two.

My handcuffs were removed.

Two of the policemen got into their cars and drove away.

I was still afraid to move, so I stayed as I was. Leaning over my car with my face pressed against the wet hood.

Officer Loudmouth and the last remaining backup cop talked for a bit, then the backup cop got into his car and left.

"Please stand up, sir," Officer Loudmouth said to me.

I stood up, and I turned to face him.

"The reason I pulled you over tonight, sir," he said, "was because your driving sucked."

He said it with such a straight face that I couldn't help but contrast his expression with a smile.

"I didn't think that cops were allowed to use language like that with civilians, " I said.

Officer Loudmouth managed to grin without cracking his face in half.

"Only when it's true," he said.

I was starting to decompress.

"Well, sorry about that. I was just having a really hard time seeing in the rain. The glare from the road was blinding me, so I slowed down. Better safe than sorry."

"Right," he said. "Better safe than sorry. You're free to go, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience, and be careful."

As I moved to get back into my car, I had to ask, "What was that all about? The handcuffing and the drawn weapons and stuff?"

"Sir," he said, "Your car matched the description of a car used in an armed robbery in Bellevue earlier tonight."

"So that's why you pulled me over?" I asked.

"No sir," he replied. "As I said, I pulled you over because your driving sucked. It was when I was running your plates that I was told about the robbery and the suspect vehicle."

"Okay," I said. "You thought I was dangerous."

"Yes, sir," he said. "Armed and dangerous."

"Well, I'm pretty much the opposite of armed and dangerous."

"That's good to hear, sir. You have a good evening, and be careful."

"You, too."

And I got back into my piece of shit Thunderbird and drove away.

A couple of weeks later, I finally stopped shaking.

After I drove my Lebaron off that cliff, saving all those lives, I found myself without a car. This sucked, as you might imagine, because I needed my car to work.

Problem was, besides not having any insurance on the Lebaron, I had very little money with which to buy another car. Luckily for me, unluckily for him, a friend of mine had recently gotten a DUI, not his first, and so he wouldn't be driving for a while. Or maybe forever.

I bought his Thunderbird for like $100. I may have been ripped-off.

But the thing ran. It was ugly as sin, but it got me around for work. And other fun things.

One rainy night I was driving home from some bar. Back then, I ran a pool league, so I spent a lot of time driving between bars. I didn't really drink back then, though, because I hadn't discovered any beer that I liked yet.

So I was driving home from a bar on a rainy night, and I was having a very tough time seeing the road. I bet I was going about 25 MPH on a road designed for twice that speed.

I saw flashing lights behind me. One of Washington's finest.

I pulled over to the side of the road, and I clasped my hands together behind my head. So the cop could see my hands and so wouldn't just preemptively shoot me. I saw a guy do that on the show Cops once, and I thought it was a good idea. I mean the clasping the hands thing, not the preemptive shooting thing.

Anyway.

This guy got on his bullhorn and told me not to move. That was fine with me. I wasn't planning on moving. But after I sat like that for about 15 minutes, I got a little fidgety. I'd thought the cop was just running my plates or something. Or maybe he was waiting for the rain to let up a little.

Nope.

He was waiting for backup.

Not one, not two, but three police cars arrived at pretty much the same time, lights flaring and sirens blaring, and they parked so as to surround me.

I got a little nervous at that point.

I got really nervous when Officer Bullhorn instructed me to (a) use my left hand to roll down my window, (b) use my left hand to throw my car keys outside the car, and (c) place my left hand back behind my head.

I nearly pissed my pants when, while I was following Officer Bullhorn's advice to the letter, the backup cops all got out of their cars, crouched behind their doors, and pointed their weapons at me.

It was probably stupid of me, but I had to say something. "I don't want any trouble," I shouted into the rain.

"Shut up right now!" Officer Bullhorn replied.

So, I shut up.

Next I was instructed to use my left hand to open my door and get out of the car with my hands behind my head.

I did so.

Next I was instructed to lie face-down on the sopping wet pavement, facing away from my car, and to place my hands back behind my head.

I did that too. It was cold, but I don't think that's the only reason I was shaking.

All of the cops then stood up. Two of the backup guys holstered their guns and approached me slowly, while the third backup guy kept his weapon pointed straight at me.

I heard Officer Bullhorn open his door and get out of his car.

(to be continued)

At 5:30 or so this evening, I said, "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Things are much better now, but all the stress has wiped me out.

It was brought to my attention, earlier this evening, that I haven't written anything in a few days. Almost exactly three days, to be precise.

Well, that's not quite right. I've written a shitload of drivel since Sunday night. I just haven't posted any of it anywhere. And I've written one entry that I kinda like, but I haven't posted it here.

So I am writing stuff. But mostly I've been trying to keep this chicken ranch of mine running somewhat smoothly.

Just cleaning up their shit takes hours every day. I don't know why I talked myself into this.

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

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

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

They're so freaking fucking loud!

But I'm okay. Really.

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

Muhaha.

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

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

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

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

See? Not that bad at all.

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

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

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

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

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

That's when something good happened.

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

SassyGirl is in town! Yay and yay!

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

---

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

I told you it was boring.

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

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

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

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

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

Hot.

European.

Lesbians.

Dammit!

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

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

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

Waaaaaaah!

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

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

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

That was pretty good timing, I think.

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

So that was Friday.

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

So that sucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you know what?

It was okay.

I got over it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I guess that's it.

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

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

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

"Kitty kitty?" I asked hopefully.

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

And it wasn't no damn kitty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty exciting stuff, huh?

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

Duh.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All day yesterday I was craving these catfish fingers from a place called Famous Dave's BBQ in Clarksville. I'm not sure who this Dave guy is, but I'm pretty sure he's never had his own DaveFest. So I'm clearly the real Famous Dave.

So at 6:00 or so I went to said BBQ place and had me some yummy catfish fingers. I had a bottle of Newcastle (7275) with them, and I bought a couple more orders of fish to take home.

Rich O's was packed with strangers. Or fucktards, as I kept calling them. I tried for a while to sit at the island with some weirdoes, but most of the night I stood at the end of the bar (called the g-spot for some reason) and glared at the people in the living room area. Turned out that they were all from the New Albany High School class of 1971. Whoopee.

Anyway, I stood at the end of the bar and had a couple pints of Rogue Dead Guy (486) and glared at people. Then after a while NotHideousGirl's sister, OddlyFamiliarGirl, came in and stood with me. I talked to her for a while, and I traded text messages with NotHideousGirl.

Then, because I'm nice, I took some cigarettes and a gluten-free beer to NotHideousGirl. We talked for a while, then I came home and ate the rest of my catfish fingers.

To finish the night, I sat on my swing and almost managed to finish a pint of Dead Guy (504) from a growler I'd bought the other day and then forgotten about.

There were about a million things I wanted to do today. I think that I will fall somewhat short of that number, since it's almost 1:00 and I've managed one thing so far. Two if you count putting clothes on.

What I did was take the Monte Carlo over to the garage. It actually started right up, so that was a bit of a surprise. I'd thought that the battery might be completely shot, because last Sunday after I'd let it run for a while, I shut it off and it wouldn't even turn over. But today it started up without any problems, and the check engine light never did come on. So that was cool.

But it's still got that pesky coolant leak. So I filled the radiator from my hose and drove the car over to my usual mechanic to have them check it out. I knew that it was either the lower radiator hose or the water pump. Of course, it's the water pump. I say of course because that's obviously the most expensive option, and the one that I would never dream of attempting myself. I've changed a few water pumps in my life, and it's just not any fun at all.

So I'll have to wait until my next payday to get the thing fixed. And then, the Monte Carlo will be pretty much back where it was a couple of years ago. Running fine, but still in need of a new exhaust system.

There was drinking, certainly. And conversation, absolutely. I got the crap flattered out of me by a girl who wasn't completely drunk off her ass. I got to see my sister, Dina, smile for the first time in two weeks. I got to see HatGirl and NotHideousGirl at the same time in the same place. I got to see a dog wearing sunglasses. MusicalHippieDudeMusicalYuppieDude and I split a bottle of yummy Malheur 10 (41). I learned something bad about myself, and I began to suspect something bad about a friend.

I don't want to say that none of that stuff mattered to me. Because it all mattered. But I don't think that any of it mattered as much as it could have. Or, perhaps, should have.

Because through it all, I was waiting. Not anticipating. Certainly not dreading. Simply waiting. Because waiting is the context of my life now. And, not coincidentally, it's also the title of this entry.

On Sunday I spend almost the entire day in my detached garage, working on my dad's old Monte Carlo. When, at 7:00, it finally roared to life, well that was one of the most welcome sounds I've heard in a long time. I let it run for a half-hour or so. I watched the white smoke fade to gray and finally to nothingness. I listened to the motor transition from a very rough idle to a smooth, albeit loud, purr. I watched coolant drip from a small hole in the lower radiator hose and form a spreading green puddle on my driveway.

I did those things and more but, mostly, I waited. After I put the Monte Carlo back in the garage, I took a shower, and I waited. I went to the store to buy cigarettes and Diet Vanilla Cokes, and I waited. I bought dinner at McDonald's, and I waited.

For almost the last three years, I mourned. And that was the context behind everything in my life, every word of every entry in this journal. Behind every word I said and every thought I had and every action I undertook, I mourned.

Now, I don't do that anymore. Instead, I wait.

This is better, I think. Definitely easier.

I think I could wait forever. Sometimes I think that it might be best if I did wait forever.

Because, I know that if the waiting ever ends, then the real work begins.

Context doesn't add background to a life. Context defines a life.

My experience with tests has always been like that of most people, I imagine.

I'll answer all of the questions, and there'll be a certain percentage that I know I've answered correctly. The rest of the questions I'll either think I got right, or hope I got right.

In most cases, because I'm not particularly stupid, the number which I know I've answered correctly is pretty high. Then anything else is just icing on the cake.

Even on those tests that have been especially hard, I might know for sure that I've answered, say, fifty percent of the questions correctly. In those cases, I can use simple math to keep my optimism up.

Like, say it's a multiple-choice test with four options per question. I get fifty percent right because I know the answers. Pure blind random luck should ensure that I answer twenty-five percent of the remaining questions correctly. So that's sixty-two and a half percent, and that's still not great. But because I'm usually not a total idiot, let's say I can narrow my choices down to two out of the four. Then random luck should get me fifty percent of those remaining answers. That's seventy-five percent, and I can certainly live with that. And of course the fact that I'm not really relying on random luck makes my actual score even higher.

So I took this practice test last night. It consisted of forty multiple-choice questions with four options for each question. I took the test, and I counted the number of questions which I knew, without a doubt, that I'd answered correctly.

The counting didn't take very long.

Two.

There were two questions out of forty that I knew I'd nailed.

The answers were in the back of the test. I got thirty-four correct. A passing score was twenty-six.

So apparently my knowledge of the subject is decent, but my confidence in that knowledge sucks big ones.

Today was the real test. It was also forty questions, with four options per question.

I know that I nailed a whopping ten of the answers.

Pure blind random luck would get me to seventeen and a half correct. Narrowing my choices down to two would get me to twenty-five. The fact that I'm not really relying on luck should get me over twenty-six so I pass.

This was a hard class, and it was a hard test. I'm not especially worried, but I'm not especially confident either. And I'm definitely glad that it's over.

I've been in a training class this week. A pretty tough class, made even more tough because most of us there feel like it's a waste of time. One more day of class tomorrow, then a test that we all figure we have to pass or we'll get fired and/or shot and/or publicly flogged. That's never been explicitly stated, but it's the general impression.

Yesterday and today they gave us practice tests to bring home. The purpose of these tests, as far as I can figure it, is to make us want to kill ourselves.

My sister has complained that this blog of mine is difficult to follow because I'm often too cryptic. After two days of this class, I know exactly how my sister feels.

I stole this from somebody at fark.com the other day. I wasn't going to post it because of copyright concerns, but it's just so damn fitting and accurate that I couldn't resist.

Just like I couldn't resist going to Dina's today to see her new kitten.

A new kitten!

Yay!

It is, of course, a comfort kitty, which is one of the best kinds of kitties. It's a Siamese, and it's about the size of my hand, and it likes to meow and climb and sit on people.

I could have stayed and petted that kitten for weeks, but I think that it might have become awkward for my sister's family after a week or so. So I tore myself away, and I tore the kitten from my lap, and I went to Hooter's in Clarksville.

While there, I had some yummy mozzarella sticks and three yummy glasses of Newcastle (7107), then I bought some crab legs and brought them home.

I never said that this would be an interesting entry.

By the time I'd posted my overlap entry late Friday night, it had already happened. But nobody knew it yet besides the dozens of kids who'd started calling each other within minutes.

My sister didn't find out until after 5:00 Saturday morning. I didn't find out until after 6:00.

At 6:21, my phone rang. I looked at the screen. It was my sister, Dina. I answered. She was crying.

Now my grandmother has been in the hospital for a couple of weeks, and not in the best of health. So I steeled myself for the news that my grandmother had died.

But that's not what had happened. That's not why Dina was crying.

I can never remember the exact words at times like this.

"Cory...(blah)...accident...(blah)...killed...died," she told me.

My mind went off-track. I hadn't steeled myself for this. Not at all.

Wait a second, I thought. Cory is her son's name. My nephew's name. And he was killed AND he died? That's just too much.

It's still too much. It will be too much for a very long time.

---

I've been at Dina's all day. Everyone has gathered around her. Doing what we can, which isn't much, but it's something. Making phone calls so family and friends don't hear about it on the news. Screening calls to Dina's house. Making sure that someone is always at her side, offering comforting touches.

My family is destroyed.

---

I suppose it's ironic or something that all of the thoughts I used to suppress so that I could sleep, those are the thoughts I call upon now to let me sleep. I call upon these fantasies from the past to distract me from the horrors of the present.

---

I went to work Monday. Dina had gone to the visitation for another boy killed in the accident. I needed to keep busy. So I sat at work and configured some software while my nephew lay on a slab at the funeral home.

---

I'm so worried about my sister. About everyone in my family, but mostly about Dina.

This is the hardest thing she will ever do. She will get through it though. Not because she wants to, because there will certainly be times when she doesn't want to. But she'll get through it because she has to. Because she's the strongest person I know, and because she has a daughter and another son. She will get through this and while she'll never get over this pain, she will get to the point where she can at least live with it.

---

Tomorrow is Cory's visitation. The funeral is Wednesday.

So fucking surreal.

---

One of many news stories about the accident.

I can't for the life of me remember enough about Thursday and Friday to write about. So maybe I'll write about last night and that will jog my memory or something.

Got to Rich O's very early because I'd thought that NotHideousGirl was having car trouble again and I was going to ride her around give her a ride around town. So by the time I was ready to leave, and I found that she was already at Rich O's having dinner, it was too late to turn back.

Oh, yeah. I spent all day Saturday alternating between reinstalling XP on my home computer, and hacking away at this sludge-filled pipe under my kitchen. The XP install went okay, though I had a pretty big scare at one point when it looked like I'd lost two disk drives. The plumbing work went okay too. My kitchen sink now drains normally. But, at about 4:00 Saturday I found myself covered in nasty gray sludge that smelled like sewage. Between sawing through the pipe, and then carrying the pipe outside, and then banging the pipe on the ground to loosen the sludge, I basically showered myself with that nasty crap for two hours.

And two hours is about how long I spent in the real shower, later, before I began to feel clean again. While showering, I wondered if the sludge would either (a) kill me, or (b) bestow upon me some super powers. More on that later.

Anyway.

I got to Rich O's a little after 7:00, and had a Wostyntje (308) and talked to NotHideousGirl for a while. She was in a shitty mood though, and she left pretty quickly. I moved to the sofa and vegged out for a while. I had a couple more Wostyntjes (328) and then I had a beer that was new to me.

Avery Karma Ale

(draft) Clear copperish amber. Average head that dissipated quickly. Aroma almost undetectable, but of apple peels and spices. Flavor started out very weak, but as my tongue became accustomed to it, I ended up like this beer a lot. A 5.2% Belgian session beer. Pretty damn cool.

Then I sat on my swing and had a Schlenkerla Marzen (705). Then I went to bed.

---

Let's see, Friday night. Hmmm.

Okay, here's something. My sister Dina and her husband Kenny came in for a while. I had three glasses of Paulaner Hefeweissbier (307) and sat at the island and talked to them for a couple of hours. After that I don't remember what I did. I think I texted some people but they were all being mean and not replying. That would explain my Friday night entry I suppose.

---

Because I had Friday off work, I went in to Rich O's on Thursday too. I think it was boring there, except that at one point my friend Eric came in. Also, there were a lot of hot girls around. I don't remember much about Thursday.

Oh, yeah. I had a new beer Thursday night.

Three Floyds Gumballhead

(draft) Had a sample, and was intrigued enough to have a half-pint next. Hazy yellow in color. Good head and great lacing. Aroma was mostly floral, with a touch of the bubble gum scent that was expected because of the beer's name. Flavor was pretty damn good. Intense, but it never quite got to the point where it was overpowering. Not bitter at all. A little weird. I liked it.

---

Okay, I'm all caught up now.

You ever want a rewind button for your life?

I want one right now.

I want the last hour of my back.

So, I think that I've mentioned before that my spiffy new kitchen sink doesn't drain very quickly. In fact, it's pretty much a race between draining and evaporating. I've gone to bed at midnight, with a full sink, and gotten up at 9:00 with an almost drained sink.

My plan was to get a plumber over here this Friday to fix the thing. But my recent computer woes caused me to change those plans. I didn't want to spend a zillion dollars on a plumber and then not have any money left over to fix the computer.

So, like I said, I changed my plans.

I went to the hardware store and bought one of those drain snake thingies. Never before have I felt so masculine. Except maybe that one time when I managed to shit out half my body weight.

Then, when I got home, I dismantled the pipes under my sink and, after much trial and error, figured out how to use the snake thingy without somehow burning my house down. Problem was, I extended all 25 feet of that thing into my pipe, and when I retracted it and reassembled the pipes my sink still wouldn't drain.

Luckily for me, my sister's husband Kenny is a Mr. Fixit. I talked to him, and he gave me a couple of ideas for things to try next. First among those ideas was to climb up onto my roof and see if the vent pipe might be clogged. Second among those ideas was to go into my basement and start cutting into pipes.

I chose the easier idea. I climbed up onto my roof with a flashlight and the aforementioned drain snake thingy.

Shining the light into the vent pipe revealed nothing, so I started snaking the, um, snake thingy down into the vent.

Oh, I guess I should say how to use the thing.

1. You loosen this thumbscrew at the thingamabob end and start cramming the coil/wire into the pipe.

2. When you feel an obstruction, you tighten the thingamabob-end thumbscrew and start cranking the handle on the housing doohickey while applying gentle pressure on the coil/wire.

3. When you feel the coil/wire going further into the pipe, go back to step 1.

At least, that's the way it's supposed to happen.

That is not, however, the way I chose to do it.

Nope, what I did was complete step two, loosen the thumbscrew, and then watch in awe as the entire 25 feet of coil/wire slid completely out of the housing doohickey and disappeared down my vent pipe.

Oops.

To review:

1. My kitchen sink still will not drain, so whatever has been clogging its drain line is still clogging its drain line.

2. Also clogging its drain line is a 25-foot length of coil/wire.

3. I suck.

My home computer has died. At least some part of it has died.

So, until I get it repaired and/or replaced, I will be a little harder to reach. Especially to those of you accustomed to IMing me.

*coughStalkerGirlcough*

I'll still have access to my email via my work computer and my blackberry though, so all is not lost.

Depending on how much this crap ends up costing, it could be as long as two weeks before I have a real computer at home again.

I feel like a caveman.

This was a shithead at Pizza Hut today. Harassing all the customers about buying something or signing up for something. I don't know what he wanted, and I didn't care. I just wanted to pick up my pizza and leave without being harassed.

I suppose that I was just - what's a good word? - flabbergasted by the opinion expressed to me tonight.

Not defensive, though it might have come to that before too long. Certainly not angry.

Flabbergasted.

I cannot think of any time in my life when I've been confronted with a more inaccurate series of statements.

Luckily, HatGirl came in and distracted me before I made a complete ass out of myself.

All day, I looked forward to drinking the last Schlenkerla Marzen in my fridge. It was a nice feeling, knowing that, no matter how boring the rest of my day was, I'd be able to end it with something special.

But noooooooooooo!

Apparently, I drank my last Marzen last night, while Eric was here. So tonight I had a new (for me) Belgian instead:

Chimay Rogue (Red)

(bottle) Cloudy dark amber. Smallish head. Faint aroma of dark fruits and malt. Flavor fairly mild, consisting mostly of apples and plums. A little drying at the finish. Pretty good.

Anyway.

I don't know that I have enough material on any single subject to make an entry about it, so I suppose I'll just list some random crap.

---

At the hotel in Philly, there was some kind of showbiz-people convention going on. I know that television news was represented, because one of the guys I talked to a lot had been a TV news reporter in Chicago for like 38 years. And at least one guy I talked to was some kind of theatre performer or director or something like that.

Wednesday night, I was sitting at the hotel bar. I glanced over at the big TV, and they had The Larry King Show playing. I didn't think too much about it until I looked at the table directly in front of the TV and saw Larry King sitting there.

At least I'm pretty sure that it was Larry King. People always look older in person than on a screen. So it might have been Larry's great-great grandfather instead. Either way, it was kind of interesting.

---

I had a dream this evening about one of my female friends. The dream was disturbing to me. Not, as one might expect, because it was a sex dream. I'm actually used to having sex dreams about some of my female friends. This particular dream was disturbing because it wasn't a sex dream. Instead, it was one of those touchy-feely hugs and soft kisses dreams. And it was very nice and sweet. So, shit!

---

Today I bought a new George Foreman grill and a deep fryer. Then I grilled a couple of hamburgers and cooked some fries. I don't know why I do these strange things. I hate cooking for myself, and I'm perfectly happy going out to eat. So now I've got two new appliances that I'll never use again.

---

Some things in my life are starting to turn around. So I don't have much grief these days. This whole being in a good mood thing is something I might have to learn to accept. No matter how boring it makes the stuff I write.

---

But still, I find myself wanting more. All the time. That desire will probably keep my creative fires burning for a while longer. I hope so, anyway. A life without desire wouldn't be much of a life, I don't think.

---

Tomorrow is going to be a long day. I've got to leave extra early because of the construction traffic, then I've got to stay extra late to give NotHideousGirl a ride home. I'm sure I'll be pretty exhausted by the time I get home tomorrow night.

---

I should try to sleep now.

The stewardess for the flight to Philadelphia provided not just one, but two sources of amusement concern for me.

First, there had been a bit of confusion behind me. People were sitting in other peoples' seats. These things happen, but I guess they got a little loud.

Then the guy with the window seat next to my aisle seat showed up. I moved to stand up and get out of his way, and the stewardess came running up to us. Not walking quickly, professionally, and with purpose. Fucking running.

So I've got the dude who needs the seat, standing in the aisle next to my seat. And I've got the stewardess standing about an inch in front of him. There was nowhere for me to go. The stewardess locked eyes with me and asked, "Do we have a problem here?"

"I was going to stand up and get out of this guy's way so he could sit down," I replied. "But you're totally blocking me from doing so."

For about 6 hours, absolutely nothing happened except that the stewardess kept her eyes locked onto mine. It was probably the creepiest six hours of my entire life. I fully expected her to call security and have them remove me from the plane and stick fingers into my ass. Then, finally, her meds kicked in or something. She said, "Foin" and turned around and walked back to the front of the plane.

Foin?

Yep, that's what she said. And that leads me to the second item of concern.

The chick was some kind of a freak. Or maybe a pod person. Or maybe a robot with a faulty language module.

At first I thought that it was just my imagination. But I've since talked with some of my coworkers, who shared the same flight, and they all noticed it.

The stewardess had a strong cockney accent, but only some of the time.

What's up with that?

Like, she'd say things like, "Ploise stoi yoi troi toibles to their loicked poisition, and ensure that your seatbacks are fully upright." And, when we had to sit on the tarmac for a half an hour for some stupid reason, she said, "Ladies and gentleman, I'll be doing a quick beverage service in a couple of minutes. Beer and woine are foive doillars. Soida and woiter and joices are coimplimentoiry."

Just freaking weird.

I forgot about this. When I got home I had an email from NotHideousGirl in which she said that I'd called her several times, but not said anything when she answered. I was pretty sure that I'd remember something like that, but I checked my phone anyway.

Sure enough, right after midnight I'd called her five times. All of the calls were less than a minute. See, I seem to have misplaced the holster thingy for my phone, so my phone was in my front pocket. Those calls went out at about the time I was driving home, so the pressure from the seatbelt must have caused the calls. Either that, or my dick really wanted to talk to NotHideousGirl. But that wouldn't make any sense, because they've never met. Maybe my dick was trying to call WeirdGirl and kept misdialing. Stupid dick.

I suppose this makes it official. I've lost my mind.

It started the second I woke up this morning. It continued throughout the day. Through taking a shower and shooting pool and reading and watching The Black Knight and emailing RockGirl and NotHideousGirl. It mercifully stopped during my nap, but now it's started up again.

I'm singing to my cat, Nugget.

And, as if that wasn't strange enough, I'm singing the same stupid verse over and over and over and over.

Lord, I was born a ramblin' man, Nugget,
Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can, Nugget.
And when it's time for leavin, I hope you'll understand, Nugget,
That I was born a ramblin' man, Nugget.

Yesterday, after NotHideousGirl's ass finally got off work, I took her to buy a doghouse for her dog, Harry.

The place we went is this SuperPet Warehouse, or something like that, on State Street in New Albany. I used to go there to buy canned food for my own cats, but I haven't been there in a couple of years because they started having actual cats for sale and I couldn't stand the temptation.

So we went in yesterday, and of course I went straight to the big cage at the front of the store to look at and pet the kitties. There were three of them, and they were all adult cats. Not kittens. As in not so cute anymore. As in nobody will ever love them and take them home.

The poor things.

Well I somehow managed to leave the store sans three new kitties. All I bought was a foam bed thing for my own cats. I bought it mostly for its comedic potential - there's no way that any of my cats could ever fit into that thing. Maybe just their ass. When I set it out on the floor, Happy and Buddy spent about an hour smelling it. Once they'd decided that it wasn't edible, they left it alone.

Nugget, of course, was immediately terrified of that scary white thing so he hauled ass into the basement as soon as he saw it.

But I digress.

I wish I could honestly say that I don't have room for any more cats. But I can't. My house has plenty of room.

I wish I could honestly say that I can't afford any more cats. But I can't. I make good money, and I could afford it fairly easily.

So why didn't I buy those three cats yesterday, especially when it became clear that they were too old, and that, if I didn't take them home, then nobody ever would?

I don't have a good reason, so it must just be because I'm an asshole.

...and yay and yay and yay and yay and yay and yay!

Two wonderful things in as many days!

Problem is, now my smile may spread, out of control, and end up ripping my head apart. Like that one apparatus with the hot girl at the beginning of Saw.

I think I'll chance it.

*smile*