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.
Every week or two, I'm supposed to move my oldest quickies to their own blog entry. I haven't done it since November. I guess I've been busy and/or distracted.
It's hard to tell from this crappy blurry photo, but that's my cat Buddy chillaxing again. It's even harder to tell that, once again, he's lying atop a pair of my blue jeans.
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.
MusicalYuppieDude and I working on building a HatGirl sandwich.
It really is too bad that she's not photogenic at all, isn't it?
So this was pretty much the highlight of my night. After HatGirl left I glared at my phone for a while, then went over to Jack's. I was starving, but the kitchen had just closed.
I spent a couple of hours talking to this one dude about various topics, one of which being - All white guys look younger than they really are. So that was good to know, I guess.
They showed a commercial for Skyline chili at one point, and after that I couldn't shut up about how much I was craving some Skyline. So, when I left Jack's, I went to Kroger and bought the stuff I'd need to make my own.
And that's what I did, as soon as I got home.
Oh yeah, I also had a new beer when I was at Rich O's.
(draft) Hazy yellow, with a decent head that lasted long enough. A nice aroma and flavor, both fairly standard for a German wheat beer. Good, a little dry. Tasted stronger than it was.
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.
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...
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.
Well, this year we're supposed to be going. It's this Saturday.
I've gone ahead and gotten a head start on freaking out about the traffic and crowding, but the company should be good, so I'm also looking forward to it.
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.
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.
There was no way I could risk another "normal" Saturday night. Nope, not with the week I'd had. Any other blow would have been a fatal one.
So I decided that I'd go to Covington. I'd go there and I'd drink some OTR beer and I'd be far away - physically at least - from my life with all of its perils.
Some crap happened at work, and I was informed that I'd need to stay close to home, in case things got worse.
So, at around 3:00, I had a brilliant idea. I texted HatGirl to see if she wanted to hang out.
She said yes!
We had a lot of fun just talking and hanging out. We went down to our local casino, ate too much food at their buffet, then drank too much beer at this Legends bar. Or I guess she drank too much beer - I was perfectly fine.
And now this makes two nights in a row, two different girls I've hung out with, and both have gotten sick. I guess I just have that effect on women. This is something I've long-suspected.
Anyway, I adore HatGirl, and she was exactly what I needed last night. After the horrible week I'd just been through, and which promised to spill over into the upcoming week, she was the perfect reminder of why it's sometimes worth the effort to keep breathing.
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.
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.
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.
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.
A long time ago, before I was even born if you can believe that, I guess a bunch of people wore buttons saying "I like Ike."
You know, because of Eisenhower or however it's spelled.
Well, I think I'd like to introduce a new button. Mine will say "Ike can suck my hairy ass."
You know, because of the hurricane.
For those just tuning in, I live in Southern Indiana. Tornado country. Maybe earthquake country. But not fucking hurricane country.
Well, somebody must have missed a memo or something. That damn hurricane Ike refused to die after wreaking havoc down South where it belonged. Nope, it continued Northeasterly with its hurricane-force winds, and wreaked havoc upon the Louisville area too. Upon my area.
Everybody is affected. Some in worse ways than others. I, for example, have not had power since noon on Sunday (UPDATE: Power came back at 8:30 PM Tuesday). I lost some big-ass branches, and a couple of big trees either fell or split in half. There are millions of twigs and leaves littering my lawn, and some in my living room that are really perplexing me.
But all of that I can deal with. The thing I may not be able to deal with is this:
That, readers, is my swing. Or the pile of rubble formerly known as my swing. Fucking Ike took it out completely. Ripped it right out of the ground.
I'm sad about this. Much sadder, I'm sure, than I should be. "It was just a swing, after all," people will say.
But, to me, it was really much more than that. To me, standing there Sunday afternoon, it was almost like I'd lost a friend.
I couldn't help but think of the dozens of times I'd sat on that swing with MixedSignalGirl, or the millions of times I'd sat there without LaptopGirl, or all of the other times when I'd just go out there to relax and not think about anything for a while.
It just makes me sad that it's gone.
Let me put it this way: If Ike had destroyed my house, and my detached garage, and my swing - I'd replace my swing first and then worry about the trivial structures.
I wrote the above, in my little notebook, while sitting in that same coffee shop, next to that same lovely companion. Trying to feed off her creativity, I suppose, and not really succeeding. I was distracted, after all.
Now I'm across the street at Bearno's. Drinking a Goose Island Honker's Ale (132), scribbling in this notebook, and watching my phone. There's a chance that I might hear from her again tonight. There's a smaller chance that I might get to see her again tonight. So I'm waiting.
There's no sense in going home. No power there, and not even a single bar of reception on my Blackberry - just "SOS."
And, of course, she's not there either. So, I'll wait for a while. She's worth it.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Today I picked up my new painting, by MisunderstoodGirl.
Because I'm all cultured and shit.
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.
(draft) Color of hazy grapefruit juice. Light citrus aroma. Very light citrus flavor, with a bit of sourness, like grapefruit juice. Good, not great.Okay, a Belgian-style wheat. Always welcome.
(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.I only had about one ounce of that crap.
(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.Yet another IPA, but this one was with the floral kind of hops that I like sometimes. This was the beer that LaptopGirl had been raving about since she'd discovered it at the beer date thingy last weekend.
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?
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.
If only they had some devices which could extinguish fire...
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 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.
My AlliDay lunch started out on a sour note for me, but it got better.
First, the Newcastle keg blew as AlliGirl was starting to pour it.
Slightly undaunted, I asked for a Breckenridge Vanilla Porter.
That keg blew as well.
I figured I'd go ahead and go for the trifecta, so I asked for a Young's Double Chocolate Stout.
Imagine my surprised relief when AlliGirl was able to pour me a full glass (500). It was very good.
Also, AlliGirl has agreed to help me test my video chat capability. I guess she's not afraid of seeing my dick, like everyone else. So, yay for AlliGirl! Way to be brave!
Now all I have to do is find my old webcam and microphone for her, then we should be able to video chat. Wait, maybe she'll need chat software as well.
Anyway, here's a picture I took today. It looked cooler in person.
Okay, so it wasn't so much a limb that fell Tuesday morning. It was more like half the tree fell.
A crappy picture of how the stupid thing ended up straddling the property line.
Another picture, taken from my neighbor's driveway.
This thing defied all attempts to locate a good shooting position.
Here we see what I meant when I said it wasn't a limb that fell. It was more like the tree split apart at the crotch. Like a whore in a hurry.
Since this break is about 30 feet in the air, I can't tell if attaching a rope and yanking with my truck will be good enough. It looks pretty dubious.
I guess I still don't feel like writing anything just yet, so here is a picture of a squirrel peeking out from a tree in my backyard.
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.
Okay, this first picture is part of the front cover of the most recent issue of the Louisville Eccentric Observer newspaper, or LEO for short.
Saturday night, LaptopGirl sat on the sofa at Rich O's, looked at the cover, and excitedly announced that her car was there. And, by inference, so was she. "Right there!" she said. "Behind that white car, just behind the don't walk sign."
Now, I didn't have my glasses on at the time, so I couldn't really see what LaptopGirl was talking about. And, I'll admit, I was skeptical. I mean, what are the odds that she's be driving down that stretch of road right when LEO decided to take a picture?
Once I got home, however, I used my computer to scan and zoom the image. I found all the proof I needed. These next two images show, with advanced zooming technology, that LaptopGirl was right all along. It's definitely her.
It's really her! Right on the front page of the newspaper!
LaptopGirl is famous! It's about time!
But I'm left with a couple of nagging questions.
Why is bigfoot in the car with her, and what in the world is bigfoot doing to that poor chicken?
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.
I have now been told, by three different people, that the girl in this beer poster at Rich O's looks uncannily like Hatgirl.
I can no longer ignore these observations. So I figured I'd post this entry and let those readers who know HatGirl decide for themselves.
Above is the full poster. I will admit a slight resemblance if I ignore the fact that HatGirl no longer wears glasses and her hair is now much shorter than that.
Here's a close-up of the facial area of the poster:
Okay, it does seem to look like HatGirl. Except HatGirl's horns are not nearly so pronounced. This chick certainly has that hot librarian look that HatGirl is so famous for.
Here's a close-up of the assial area of the poster:
I, of course, would never ever look as HatGirl's ass. She's much too pure and sweet for me to sully her in that way. But, if I were to look at her ass, I'm pretty sure that (a) it would be even nicer than what is portrayed here, and (b) there would be no tail.
Anyway, NABC's artist Tony Beard does a heck of a job, doesn't he?
I spend a lot of my spare time, such as this time right now while I wait for the dryer to ding, playing this Euchre game on my computer.
I'm not going to try to explain what Euchre is except to say that it's a card game. If you already know the game, then no explanation is necessary. If you don't already know what it is, and I try to explain it, you're inevitably going to exclaim, "Oh! It's like Spades!"
And then I'll have to kill you.
It's not like fucking Spades.
Anyway, I play this Euchre game a lot. Me and a computerized version of my cat Happy partnered against computerized versions of my cats Buddy and Nugget.
Shut up, I am so not gay.
I must have played this game a million times. Way more than I've played it with actual humans. This might be a good thing.
See, Happy keeps pissing me off. He's constantly leading trump on defense. I think this strategy scored a point once, back in 2001 or 2002, but it had never worked before and it hasn't worked since. I'm constantly cussing out my computerized partner for this folly, but he won't listen. Because he isn't real.
I'm pretty sure that, if I ever have an actual human partner, and he or she leads trump on defense, I'll just have to kill him or her.
Okay, so the red X is about where I was standing, just outside the building where I work. To the left of the X, directly across the street and about 50 feet away, is the 21C Museum/Hotel. So, imagine my surprise when two girls, who were walking around looking lost, stopped and asked me how to get to the 21C Museum/Hotel.
Nice guy that I am, I gave them directions. "Go South and turn left at the light, then go East and turn left at the light, then go North and turn left at the light, then go West and turn left at the light, then go South. When you get back to this exact spot again, go across the street."
Then I had to get back inside to work.
I hope they found the place okay.
I couldn't think of anything to write about, so I just figured I'd cheat and post this picture I took yesterday when I was waiting for AlliGirl to drag her ass out of bed and call me.
If I was a kid again, I would totally climb that shit.
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.
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.
Walking out my front door this morning, I was able to confirm what I'd suspected last night. It was a big tree.
I got pretty lucky, though. The tree barely reached my house.
This section of gutter is toast. I've got a guy coming out to see if there's any damage to my actual roof. He'll also give me an estimate on repairs. This is the same guy who replaced my entire roof a few years ago.
This hole in my yard is going to be a pain to fill, I just know it.
I got lucky.
Monday, as I mentioned before, I went to Rich O's after work. I got a pizza to go.
What I didn't mention before was that I got a special pizza. Or at least a special pizza box.
The kitchen staff, led by MisunderstoodGirl, all signed the thing.
Then a bunch of other people who were standing around signed the thing.
You can click this image to see a large version.
Last night I whipped this together and sent it to a few people. I mainly made it for RockGirl. She was looking for ideas on what to send her boyfriend.
RockGirl decoded it in about two seconds. HatGirl came very close right away, but may have given up. LaptopGirl is probably forwarding it to her attorney. WeirdGirl cheated, but she said it was only to check her answer.
I could have picked another image altogether for the third image. I don't know why I didn't.
...there was this stupid dog named Fido. Really original name, I know.
Fido liked to eat dead animals.
But, besides being stupid, Fido was also lazy as fuck, so he never bothered to actually hunt and kill anything. Nope, he'd just look for something that was already dead. Like road-kill and other gross stuff.
Then he'd bring the rotted carcass up onto the porch and gnaw on it for a while, until this kid named Dave took it from him and threw it in the trash barrel.
The moral of this story is that random dead things are disgusting.
I got to Rich O's early, about 7:20 or so. I hadn't really been planning to go at all. I was just going to sleep and wake up whenever I woke up. But then HatGirl texted me that she was at Rich O's. So I went to Rich O's, even though I was very tired, because, duh, HatGirl!
Also, Thursday I went there after work and saw this bit of loveliness on the board.
I asked Roger when he thought it might be available, and he guessed that it would be around the first of December.
So, imagine my surprise and glee when I went in on November 9th and saw this.
Cone Smoker was on tap! Yay!
I went into Rich O's proper and sat on the sofa. I said hello to everyone around me. MusicalYuppieDude, some dude without a nickname, LuckyFucker, HatGirl.
Then, after about 10 minutes, I realized that none of the bartenders were going to ask me what I wanted, so I went up to the bar and ordered my first Cone Smoker in 18 months or so (1936). It was a little darker than I remembered. More malty, and not as bitter. Quite yummy, though - that hadn't changed.
I ended up having a second one (1956) then most of a third one (1974) before my stupidity irritated me to the point where I became unfit for human company. At that point, I came home.
I don't feel like writing anything.
Tonight I looked through my photo album for a certain picture. I never did find it, and so I fear that it's in South Dakota, but I did find a few that were worth posting. So long as I don't care about the things I post being interesting. Plus, this counts as an entry for today. So, ha ha!.
I took that picture in the cafeteria at school, in 7th grade. On the left was FoxyGirl, my first love. Her friends were quite cute, too.
In the 8th grade, I'd completely gotten over FoxyGirl, and UFOGirl was my new obsession. She's the one on the left.
This picture has nothing to do with the previous two pictures. I've just always thought it was funny. That's my sister Dina. I still think of her with huge 80s hair like that. Also, when I was a kid, I didn't think that gay guys really existed. I thought they were just something that adults made up to scare little children. Like the boogie-man and Jesus. By the time I'd reached adulthood, I'd begun to suspect that gay men might actually exist. This picture provided absolute proof.
Here's the view from my deck. If you would indulge me for a minute, please. Ignore the rotting woodpile and the bird feeder, and just look at the tree. See anything? About ten feet up, on the left side?
Maybe, maybe not. I certainly notice something, whenever I'm out on my deck. Here's a closer look:
How about now? See that damn face, turned to the left? I'll tell you, once you notice it, as I did a couple of weeks ago, it's impossible to look at that tree without seeing that face.
One more picture, zoomed even more:
Now, to me, the face isn't as obvious as it was in the last picture. But it's still there and, at this magnification, I can see just a tiny hint of an eye. An eye looking right back at me.
This tree-face, along with Dilly the Armadillo, is one of my best friends now. I call him Treeface, which is a stupid, albeit descriptive name.
Upon seeing Treeface for the first time, I was of course reminded of all the Jesus and Virgin Mary sightings that keep showing up on the Internet. Pieces of toast, rust stains on sidewalks, stuff like that. I thought, for just a brief minute or two, about announcing that The Face Of Jesus had appeared on a tree in my backyard. I figured that maybe there'd be profit to be had.
But then I remembered, I certainly don't want those people here. Weeping and wailing at all hours of the day and night as they prostrated themselves all over my lawn.
I also thought about that Face on Mars that so conveniently
was photoshopped away disappeared soon after it was first noticed. I thought that maybe Marsface had somehow relocated and changed his identity to Treeface. Via some kind of interplanetary Witness Protection Program, perhaps.
But I certainly couldn't disclose that theory to the world. The freaks who would show up then would be even worse than the bible thumpers. If you can imagine that.
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'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.
Okay, when I was sitting at Famous Dave's this evening, having some yummy catfish tenders and a yummy Newcastle (7327), I noticed this coaster under my glass:
This struck me as being really funny. Because whoever made this up probably thought it was a good slogan which would cause lots of Miller Lite to be sold.
Anyway, I turned over the coaster, and found this:
And this struck me as being even funnier. Because saying Best American-Style Light Lager is kinda like saying swilliest swill or pissiest piss.
Somebody needs to tell these Miller people, who keep bragging about this award, somebody needs to tell them that American-Style Light Lager is NOT a classification.
It's a diagnosis.
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!
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.
After a quick meal at Wendy's, I got to Rich O's at 8:45 or so. The place was packed. Seemed to be an even mix of regulars and strangers.
Oh yeah, they finally got their order of Schlenkerla beers in. This was good news, but it caused me a bit of a problem right off the bat.
See, Rogue Chocolate Stout was still on tap. And I have a contractual obligation with my liver to drink Rogue Chocolate Stout whenever it's available. But I really wanted to have a couple of Schlenkerlas at the end of the night, and I knew that there'd be much clashing of flavors if I had the Rogue first.
So I broke my contract, and I had a couple Dirty Helens (202). I sat at the bar and talked to some dude who should probably get a nickname, I got a text message from NotHideousGirl featuring the drunk womanese word wrAnfo and deciphering that word occupied a good part of my brain for the rest of the night. I still haven't figured it out.
I talked to MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl for a bit, and some people cleared out from the sofa so I moved over there. I talked with a chick who I shall call FirstGirl. Not, as one might suspect, because she was my first girl, but rather because she was the first person to ever talk to me at Rich O's after I started hanging out there. Anyway, FirstGirl was puzzling over her own little mystery.
She'd found this napkin on the table, and her brain was about to explode from trying to figure out its meaning. We spent some time trying to figure out the napkin, and we spent some time trying to figure out NotHideousGirl's wrAnfo, but we never did decipher either one of them.
My next beer was a Schlenkerla Weizen (222), and I overlapped the last part of that with a Schlenkerla Marzen (547). I wanted to do a side-by-side comparison of the two. I don't think that I can really declare a winner. The Weizen is certainly lighter, and it would make a better session beer than the Marzen. But the Marzen is flat-out yummy.
Even though the Marzen was flat-out yummy, I only drank about 8 ounces of it before I cut myself off and then snuck out and came home. I don't think I missed much, because they'd declared last call at 11:30 even though the place was still totally packed.
Wednesday night, when I was waiting to see if BikerGirl was going to join me for dinner, I took this picture. On the left is the building where NotHideousGirl works. On the right is a building where irrelevant people work.
Two fucking fifty three. In the morning.
I'm so tired. I've got so much crap to do tomorrow. I've got to work early Sunday morning.
Basically, I'm fucked.
I won't get anything done tomorrow before I go to my nephew's graduation party. I won't be able to get to sleep after the party, so I'll go to Rich O's or something. Then I'll be up all damn night until it's time to start work.
That's when I'll suddenly get tired.
Tonight was kinda fun. I got to Rich O's a little after 8:00. Had a Dirty Helen (122), then TremensGirl and I split a bottle of Allagash Grand Cru (63), then I had another Dirty Helen (142). When I first arrived, NotHideousGirl was there at the island with OddlyFamilarGirl and MusicalYuppieDude. I joined them for a while, but eventually I moved to the living room for my Allagash. It was a little strange to have to share NotHideousGirl with a group. I've become accustomed to having her all to myself during our lunches. I guess I've been spoiled. As has she.
After a while, ArtGirl came in, and I pretty much spent the rest of the night waiting for opportunities to talk to her, and then taking full advantage of those opportunities once they arose. Had her completely to myself for an hour or so at one point, then we moved to the red room and sat with some people there. That's why I was out so damn late. I wanted to leave, but ArtGirl was totally kidnapping me and keeping me trapped in the corner. But it wasn't so bad. She's warm. She's pretty and nice. So of course she has a boyfriend.
ArtGirl and I not only closed out Rich O's, we stayed almost three hours after closing. Not even during the days of LaptopGirl have I ever stayed there so late. I felt pretty guilty about it, but one of the owners was right there with us, so I guess it was okay or she'd have kicked us out a long time ago.
Man, I need to get some sleep. I'm rambling.
Oh gee wowie zowie. I managed a whopping four hours of sleep. Damn circadian rhythms.
There's some shit I forgot to mention about last night.
At one point this one dude and I were talking about mechanical engineers. Specifically, we were talking about how much they piss us off by being so damn smart. I mean, a mechanical engineer could have told us whether our little tower was stable without having to build the thing.
At one point I found myself back at the island with MusicalYuppieDude and PillowDude and PorterBob. They were sampling some beer. I had a very small sample myself.
(bottle) Black with nice brown foam. Aroma of roasted malts and not much else. Flavor of roasted malts and not much else. Quite a bit of malt bitterness at the finish. Everyone around me was raving about how great this beer was, but I didn't share their enthusiasm. Decent, but no better than that.Also, at the very end of the night, I was sitting with ArtGirl and OddlyPrettyGirl in the red room, and there was a half a Smithwick's there, so I drank some of it (1658).
ArtGirl asked me how old I am, and for some reason I told her. When she didn't run away screaming, that earned her some points. Not that she needed any more points.
I also found myself writing down my website address for her. I don't know why I do crap like that. Now she might actually read some of this drivel. Just in case, Hi ArtGirl!
From the other day at lunch, incontrovertible proof that NotHideousGirl is strange.
A couple of weeks ago, NotHideousGirl and I both found ourselves missing HatGirl terribly. This picture was taken to document our sadness.
Okay, what the fuck is this thing? It's on the shelf at Rich O's.
NotHideousGirl and BikerGirl missed me a lot while I was in Las Vegas. I like to think that they consoled each other in various ways.
The conference ended at 1:00 on Thursday, which was quite cool because it gave me some time to attempt to take a nap. It would have been even cooler if the nap had actually happened, but the construction going on in the room above me prevented any Zs from being caught.
I managed to snap a picture of the construction equipment as it was heading to the room above me. How they fit all that shit into one room I'll never know:
After I gave up on sleep, I took my last bottle of Alaskan Smoked Porter down to the race and sports book place. They were perfectly willing to let me use one of their glasses, but they said that some
red tape bullshit rule prevented them from opening the bottle. Then this one dude took pity on me and showed me how to open a beer bottle using a lighter. I've already mentioned learning this valuable skill. The Alaskan Smoked Porter (589) was yummy, by the way.
Then I had a Fat Tire (587) and played video poker and glared at my phone for an hour or so. See, I maybe had a date. I wasn't even going to mention it here, in case it didn't pan out. But I had a maybe date with StupidGirl, because my new best friend had told his girlfriend that I was in town, and then his girlfriend had told StupidGirl. She finally called me at 6:00 or so with the excuse that she just got off work.
For those joining me late, I realize that StupidGirl is a terrible nickname. I would change it to SweetGirl, but StupidGirl actually likes her nickname. She says that it gives her a story to tell. So the nickname stays.
StupidGirl and went up to Fremont Street and dicked around there for a while. We were going to have dinner at Main Street Station's brewpub, but they were out of their Triple 7 Porter, and all of their other beers suck. So, in protest, we ate at this Grill Bar Saloon place. I drank Diet Coke, and StupidGirl had some foo-foo thing.
After dinner, we went back to The Strip and took in the volcano at the Mirage and the fountains at Bellagio. Walking down The Strip holding hands with a pretty girl is still one of life's perfect moments for me. I wish I could do it every night. In front of the Bellagio fountains there was much slaking. I think it was all the gushing of the water that gave us the idea. Some lady took our picture slaking in front of the fountains. I gave her my email address so she can send me a copy.
This part is probably going to seem pretty lame, but nothing reportable happened beyond that. I really like StupidGirl, and I'm going to leave it there. Maybe next time I'm in Las Vegas...
Here's some crap I wrote Wednesday night.
Another Las Vegas Wednesday. Another night when I get to realize that it's the last full night I'll have here for months. Another night when I get to wonder if I could have done more with my week. Well, this time it's more like a certainty than a wondering, and it's more like a lifetime than a week. But, that's just my mood right now. It fluctuates, in case you haven't noticed.
I'm sitting at the Tilted Kilt, drinking a yummy Tilted Kilt (656) and just kind of soaking in the place for the last time. See, it's going away. Probably late this Summer. And I won't be back until November, so tonight is the last time I'll sit at this bar. This sucks. This place has been my main escape and distraction during an awful lot of troubled times. Las Vegas just won't be the same for me without it.
Also, I really like the free shows here at The Rio. Here's a crappy picture:
See, that kind of thing almost never happens back at Rich O's. Not even for DaveFest. Plus, it's kinda funny to see five of the gayest guys on Earth, trying to feign interest as they dance/grope five of the hottest girls on Earth.
Much time passes...
I've stayed here at the Tilted Kilt longer than I'd planned, and I've had more glasses of Tilted Kilt (720) than I'd planned, because I've realized that when this bar goes away, it takes this beer with it. This makes me even more sad, hence the staying and the drinking.
Monday morning, circadian rhythms forced me awake a little before 4:00, so I played some video poker and drank diet cokes for a few hours. Yes, I rock.
Then I remembered a couple of cool things. First, there's a free shuttle running between The Rio and Harrah's. Second, there's a monorail servicing the strip.
So, guess what I did.
Guess where I am now? I mean now as I write this, not now as you read it.
I'm at The Rio. Yay! One thousand DavePoints for anyone who guessed correctly.
I love The Rio. It's a much better place for someone like me. The Venetian is for millionaires. So I went to The Rio, and I immediately felt better. Just being in the place did me worlds of good. And then, and then I saw something that lifted my spirits to new heights.
The Tilted Kilt is still there! Yay! I'd heard that it might be gone.
They weren't open yet though, so I couldn't go in, and I couldn't quite read the taps to see what was available. I'll be going there Tuesday night though.
I wrote the above stuff sitting at The Rio. Now I'm back in my hotel room and it's pretty damn late and I'm wide awake but little hung-over.
I'm hung-over because, when I left The Rio, I went to The Freakin' Frog. First, I took the free shuttle back to Harrah's. Then I bought a three-day pass for the monorail. Then I took said monorail to The MGM Grand. Then I took a cab to The Freakin' Frog.
Their draft list didn't impress me too much today, but I got over it quickly enough, as soon as I confirmed that they had Alaskan Smoked Porter in bottles. They had four bottles left, and I bought all four, and I drank three of them (567).
And that's why I'm a little hung-over.
The fourth bottle is here in my hotel room. I haven't decided if I'm going to drink it this week or if I want to try to figure out a way to get it home.
A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that StoreGirl and I had been photographed and interviewed by a dude from one of the local free newspapers. Well some of the fruits of that session made it into this week's issue.
Apparently, space was an issue, because none of the stuff about how awesome I am made into the final article. I guess they decided to cut out the obvious stuff first.
But still, pretty cool.
And I've thought about it, and I've decided that I will continue to associate with the little people in my life. I won't let this new fame go to my head.
I will, however, still accept groupies.
Malheur Dark Brut
Malheur Brut Reserve
Gouden Carolus Grand Cru
Gouden Carolus Classic
Abbaye d'Aulne Triple Brune
Gouden Carolus Triple
Except for the Koningshoeven, these are all new beers for me.
Rogue Ten Thousand Brew Ale
Rodenbach Grand Cru
Ommegang Three Philosophers
Avert The Reverend
Three Floyds Behemoth
All new to me except The Reverend and Delirium Tremens.
And I actually have even more waiting to be enjoyed. I just didn't want to post a picture of everything because I didn't want people to think I was a freak.
This is what happens when I'm in a weird mood.
I can't focus on any thoughts long enough to coax a decent entry out of them.
So you get this crap.
A former coworker of mine died yesterday. He was 35, and he was a cool guy. So on Friday I'll go to the visitation, even though I didn't really know him that well.
Rogue Smoke is finally available at Rich O's. Yay!
I forgot to mention that, the other night, HatGirl graduated from college. In addition, she surprised absolutely nobody by making the dean's list.
Yay for HatGirl!
For the next two days there's an art show at Rich O's. I already bought one of NotHideousGirl's paintings:
We've talked about this painting over lunch several times. I just had to have it. But this time I'm going to pay her in person, because she still hasn't got her money from the last one I bought, when I paid the guy running the art show.
Oh yeah, at the art show tonight it was movie night. I didn't stay for it, but I read about it. One of the films is about Darfur, so that's probably the feel-good movie of the year. Not.
You know how to piss off a stray cat?
Well, I'll tell you.
Go outside at night, and watch said stray run and hide underneath a pine tree with low-hanging branches. Then, walk right up to the tree and call out, "Hi there kitty! It's so nice to see you!"
See, it pisses the strays off because they think they're being so sneaky and feral.
I have no idea what happened to SassyGirl and JauntyGirl. They're probably off on another one of their adventures.
TremensGirl showed up at Rich O's this evening with red hair. She then claimed that it's always been red. I'm not fooled though.
I have to pee.
So why do I keep spouting the same drivel over and over, even long after it's become perfectly clear that it does more harm than good?
Because it feels right in my head. Because it fits onto my heart like a glove fits onto my hand. Because it belongs.
Because one night I leaned against a railing, and I looked at her as she sat and cried on this little wall...
and I broke through the clouds, and I saw how far I was going to fall. And I knew, right then and right there that my life would never be the same again.
That's why I keep writing crap like this.
Because I was right. Everything changed then.
My next stop, after Buffalo Wild Wings, wasn't the BBC after all. It was the
Haunted Highland Tap Room. I had a couple Newcastles (4682) and had a little séance. Funny, we only came here once, but this place seems as haunted as any other. Maybe even more than Rich O's, because there are fewer memories competing for attention.
Next, I went over to The Pub. Actually I went to Hard Rock first, but CoolHairGirl wasn't working, so I went to The Pub and had yet another Newcastle (4702) and talked to BikerGirl for a while.
My sister Dina called to see if I was going to Rich O's later. I hadn't really made any plans to go there, but I told her that I'd meet her in about an hour. I invited BikerGirl to come to Rich O's when she got off work at 8:00. I wrote down directions for her, just in case. I think going to Indiana was about tenth on her list of possibilities for the evening.
But at least she didn't laugh when I invited her. So that was cool.
Got to Rich O's a little after 7:00. I sat at the kiddie table with Dina and had another Diet Coke. Her husband Kenny came in after a while. BadPickleGirl came in with some dude, but I think it was just a coincidence that they came in. Unless she's stalking me.
Eventually, I had a bottle of yummy Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1805). Once everyone else had left, I waited until about 9:30 to see if BikerGirl was going to show up.
Then, some fucked-up shit happened.
Then, I stopped at White Castle on the way home.
I'm easily amused. Found this at kottke.org.
This is the type of fame for which Nugget is destined. I'm sure of it.
This first one was a week ago Friday. I was with NotHideousGirl and I tried on her glasses. So this blurry images is probably what she saw when she looked at me. Both because she'd been drinking and because I had her glasses on.
This one we took this past Friday night. I then sent it to HatGirl, hoping that it would inspire her to show up and give me someone who didn't hate all men to talk to. My plan didn't work.
I found this Face Transformer site that lets you do shit to pictures. Here are some of the manglings it came up with for my picture:
Now this is exactly the kind of thing for which I wanted a camera in my phone!
Sunday I was sitting at a red light, minding my own business, and there was suddenly a loud crash to my left.
The sign says "No left turn" and it seems a lot bigger when it's lying on the ground than it does when it's 20 feet in the air.
I bet it's a heavy fucker too.
I wish I'd been thinking more clearly. I could have jumped out of my truck and grabbed the sign. Then I could have mounted it in my basement or something.
There are way too many people making left turns in my basement.
RIght after I got my new Blackberry I took this picture of the stuff adorning my desk. Many of these are things that I've posted here before.
From top to bottom, then left to right:
My cat Buddy after he got shaved.
An image I made of three of me on my couch.
BadPickleGirl and me and BadPickleGirl's cousin at Rich O's.
My sister Dina's kids.
MisunderstoodGirl wearing a shirt that says I agree with Dave.
A picture of HatGirl that I really like.
A whirlpool that RockGirl drew. I think of it as my department's unofficial logo.
A little saying I got from somewhere. People who stay calm all the time just don't have all the facts.
A picture I took at the Grand Canyon in August 2006.
Another Grand Canyon picture.
Me and SassyGirl at DaveFest last Summer. This picture also hangs on the wall at Rich O's.
A picture of HatGirl's ear. This picture doesn't taste very good.
And now, that picture I took of NotHideousGirl yesterday is up there too, just below the HatGirl picture.
I had fun today.
First, I overslept. So that was cool.
Then at lunch - Newcastle (3334) - I ran into NotHideousGirl. First time I've seen her since HatGirl's birthday party in December. So that was way cool.
Then we went to Borders so she could buy some CDs. This was about as useful as taking a blind man to the paint store, but I went anyway.
Oh yeah, I got a new Blackberry yesterday, and guess what.
It's got a camera!
First time I've had a camera phone in months.
NotHideousGirl was kind enough to let me test the camera on her, and post the results here.
So that was fun. It was a little strange to leave a bookstore without any books though.
Then, after work, I went to the local hardware store to buy a bunch of PVC shit for my sink. I figured that I'd go ahead and give it a try, and then if I screwed it up Kenny could always come and laugh at me as he corrected my mistakes.
Well, I managed to twist the PVC stuff around enough so that now I have actual drains running from my sink. I also managed to install and wire up the new garbage disposal without killing myself.
Anyway, here's the old ugly sink.
And here's the new sink. Ta da!
Just so none of you people start to think I'm infallible, here's what's under the new sink.
Those bowls are because the new drain lines leak. Not very much, but enough to be annoying. So I called Kenny and apparently I need some Plumber's Putty to put between the sink and the traps. Either Kenny or I will get some of that, we'll tear everything apart and reinstall using the putty where appropriate, and then this project will be done!
Except that I think I need Kenny to use one of those snake thingies on the drain line that goes into the wall. Everything still drains pretty slowly.
And the garbage disposal works too! Nugget is scared of it.
Every now and then I'll get a bug up my butt about my house.
There are about a zillion things that I hate about this house. Cosmetic stuff mostly. But back when I bought the place, I was making a lot more money, so I figured I'd just throw cash at the ugliness and make it all go away.
But no! Once the Internet bubble burst, I had to get a real job, at substantially less pay.
And so the ugliness remains.
Grotesque light fixtures.
Brown shag carpeting.
Hideous cabinets and countertops.
Ugh. Even all the dark brown doors and trim are ugly and dated.
And I didn't even show you the light fixture in my bedroom, or the floor in my bathroom or bedroom, or the painted wall in my downstairs bathroom. Had I posted pictures of those things, I'd probably have been shut down for running an obscene website. And I didn't want to take that chance.
Friday I got this bug up my butt to do something, anything to reduce the ugliness.
So I decided to replace my kitchen sink and faucet. While I was at it, I figured, I'd get a garbage disposal too.
Yesterday, I had my sister's husband Kenny over to look at my sink area and tell me what I'd need to buy. He's a professional Mr. Fixit.
Then I went to Lowe's and spent an hour or so picking out stuff that (a) looked cool, and (b) wasn't laughably expensive.
Did you know that there are $600 kitchen faucets? That's just ridiculous to me. Who needs a fucking $600 kitchen faucet?
So I piled all the shit in my cart and, when I went to pay for it, they declined my card.
I became a little concerned. There certainly should have been money in my account. I mean, Thursday was payday I hadn't taken any money out for at least a week.
But oh well. I figured that I'd call my bank on Monday and see what the deal was. I apologized to the checkout girl and went home.
Then last night I had the brilliant idea that maybe they'd declined my card because they'd tried to run it through as debit instead of credit. The card can be charged either way, but there's a $200 daily limit on debit transactions.
So I went back to Lowe's today. I picked out all the same shit I'd picked on Saturday.
This time I told them to run it through as credit instead of debit.
It fucking came back declined again.
After I'd apologized to the second checkout girl in as many days, I left scratching my head. What if something was going on with my checking account?
I needed to find out. So I went to my bank, and did a balance inquiry at the ATM thingy.
There's almost $3000 in my account right now. That seems about right to me.
The shit I was trying to buy was $580 or something like that.
Now I'm no math whiz, but I'm pretty sure that $580 is less than $3000. I'm also pretty sure that $580 is less than the $1000 daily limit on credit transactions.
So I don't know what's going on. All I know for sure is that everything in my house is still ugly. Including my kitchen sink.
Okay, so that one particular cool thing didn't happen. But it was still a pretty nice night. I got to relax and look at pretty girls. And I got to wear my cool new t-shirt.
They're having a big S.I.G.H. convention around here somewhere, and all the girls seemed to have picked Rich O's as the place to unwind. From their hotness seminars or pillow fight tournaments or whatever they do at those things.
So the place was packed, but there were at least ten very pretty girls there. This is at least nine and a half more than usual. Pretty girls definitely make the crowd bearable.
When I first arrived, I sat on the loveseat. Some semi-acquaintances were scattered about the rest of the living room area. They know SassyGirl, so I told them about how I'd finally been getting emails from her. We talked for a bit about the good old days of lesbian mud-wrestling parties. I had an NABC Old Lightning Rod (190).
After a bit I moved up to the island and sat with MusicalYuppieDude and some PBDs. My second beer was a Wostyntje (119).
CoffeeDude and WomanRepellant came in at some point. I was talking to them when the President of S.I.G.H. arrived with some dork. I almost lost all self-control, and it's only thanks to CoffeeDude's impromptu therapeutic intervention that I kept from making a complete fool of myself. I did, however, have a Rogue Smoke (450) and then couple of Diet Cokes to kill some time so I could keep looking at Madam President when the opportunities arose.
Oh yeah, at 10:00 or so I drunk-emailed BadPickleGirl. This is always a waste of time because she won't even get the thing until Monday.
Anyway, I've been developing this theory about beer. About me and beer actually. There are some beers, and some combinations of beers, that I simply should not be drinking.
Last night I stumbled on one such combination.
I felt fine when I left Rich O's, at about midnight. I spent some time digging around for some batteries for my camera. Then I took those two awesome pictures above.
Right after I took the second picture, I fell back against the wall, and I was immediately drunk.
Spinning room drunk.
Pretty damn weird.
So I didn't get to practice pool last night. Instead I went to bed and hoped that I wouldn't get sick.
Tonight, for a change of pace, I had a beer. This was the fourth bottle that I took to BadPickleGirl's house on Friday. We didn't get to it then, so I got to it tonight.
(bottle) No foam at all. I mean none. I've seen tap water with a bigger head. Other than that, poured a slightly hazy orange. Taste was, as expected, fairly flat and generic. Yeasty and bland in flavor, this beer did grow on me as time went by. I'd love to try this in draft form someday. Maybe there'll be some fizz then.Meanwhile, I sit here with three ideas for blog entries. All of them good ideas, but none of them exciting enough that I'm going to start typing them up now.
I think, instead of trying to tackle any of my new entry ideas, I think I'll just quote from my friend NotHideousGirl's blog:
Dave Siltz is the weirdest normal person I know, and I love him for it.So, isn't that just the sweetest thing?
In response to that, I'll say this:
Kat is the most beautiful girl I know, who doesn't act like she's beautiful, and I love her for it.Also, today I didn't talk to BadPickleGirl at all, and that bothered me a little. Uh oh.
Finally, my sister Neisha accused me the other day of killing and eating my cat Nugget, since she hasn't seen him in years and years. As proof that Nugget still lives, I present this picture (taken tonight) of him in all his fatness, along with the scratching post that he's slowly but surely shredding to bits:
I was dicking around with this today, showing a coworker the route to the expressway, and I noticed that the resolution seemed to have improved. Intrigued, I directed the application to a little town that had always been nothing more than a blur of pixels.
Now it's much better. I guess Google Earth has updated its database with new images.
...on Lost! are real dicks.
Except for this chick. I have a massive crush on her:
Probably in part because she used to be this girl on Malcolm in the Middle and she's the one that started the whole perverted brunettes with glasses thing for me.
If only there'd been a dorky girl like that when I was in school.
Sorry, ladies, but your dreams have not come true.
There are not three of me.
I got this idea from netmale a long time ago and completely forgot about it until MixedSignalGirl "found" some scrubs for me at work today.
Man I'm so behind on these things. But I don't feel like writing so I'm just going to rush through this.
On Tuesday, I went to Rich O's to see SassyGirl and JauntyGirl. This could be the last time I get to see them in that place, so it was kind of bittersweet for me. I took a picture to remember them by.
To drink, I had myself three glasses of Delirium Tremens (712).
After the girls left I stuck around and talked to CoffeeDude for quite a while. I think I bored him with my stories, but at least we didn't talk about coffee. I also tried to get MixedSignalGirl (yes, we're talking again) to come but we got into a fight instead.
Wednesday night, I was in Broomfield Colorado. There was a brewpub right next to my hotel. I think it was called CB & Potts, but it was the Big horn Brewery too. Or maybe Ram brewing. It was quite confusing.
Anyway, I had myself a yummy steak dinner, and with it I had a couple of beers:
Big Horn Hefeweizen (20)
(draft) Served in a glass that was way too cold. There were ice crystals in the beer. Once it had thawed out a little, this was a pretty good beer. Very much a German-style wheat, but with the tiniest little bite of hops in the finish. I liked it.For my next beer, I asked the girl to thaw me a glass out ahead of time.
(draft) Very nice. Chocolately and roasty and malty. If this was available near my home it would be one of my favorite beers.After that I went to this place who's name escapes me. I'd gone in there earlier to see what they had on tap, and the hot bartender had told me to come back after I'd eaten, so I did.
While I was there I talked to the hot bartender and I had several phone conversations with MixedSignalGirl. To drink, I had a 24-ounce glass of Fat Tire (403) and then a regular 16-ounce glass of Newcastle (2348). Then I ordered some chicken tenders and went back to the hotel.
Thursday I didn't drink anything. I didn't do anything except go to class and then read a book in my room.
Friday I didn't drink anything. All I did was check my email every 10 seconds and try to avoid having a total meltdown.
Saturday I flew back home.
After a nice meal at the haunted Burger King, I went to Rich O's and got there at about 8:00. I waved at MusicalHippyDude and GlassesGirl who were sitting at the island, and I sat in the throne and talked to a couple that seemed to know me. I will now christen then Scarecrow and HopGirl.
I had a Delirium Tremens (722).
After a while everybody around me started talking about boring stuff so I moved up to the island. This was about the time I had another Delirium Tremens (732).
Then those people started talking about boring stuff. I realized that I was just bored and that it had nothing to do with anyone else. So I texted HatGirl on the off-chance that she'd come to Rich O's.
Well it worked! I got a reply back that they'd be coming in! Yay!
I think that this was about when I ordered my third Delirium Tremens (742).
After a million years, during which I tried somewhat successfully to lure MusicalHippyDude into interesting conversations, HatGirl came in to say "Hi." She and her sister and LuckyFucker were sitting out front. So after a suitable interval I went out to sit with them.
I spent the next hour or two migrating back and forth between the island and the front area.
Sometime during that period I had a fourth Delirium Tremens (752).
After HatGirl and company left I moved back to the island for good. WomanRepellant had snuck in at some point, as had Bubbles and NoNickNameDude. So I finished my beer and talked with them for a while. I also had a couple Diet Cokes to give the beer time to wear off.
I came home at 12:30 or so.
I feel kind of silly writing this, my Saturday beer report. More than that, I feel a little bit guilty about writing it. 'Cause see, I can't or at least won't write about what was important. And I don't want those things that I do write to take away from the significance of those things that I can't or won't write about.
Did you ever see a shooting star so brilliant that it just took your breath away, and you just stood there watching it blaze across the sky, so awestruck that you forgot to make a wish? Did you ever then realize that you're wish had come true anyway?
Yeah, well me too.
Saturday I needed to get to Rich O's early. It was imperative. There were people that were going to be there and I needed to have suitable seating available.
So I left my house a little before 7:00. I was on my way to the haunted Burger King to get something to eat when HatGirl went zooming by me, honking her horn and giving me a heart attack. HatGirl was one of the people I was supposed to meet at Rich O's. One of the reasons that I needed to be there early. But she called to let me know that she'd be later than expected. Didn't matter though. I still had to find suitable seating. There was another.
I grabbed a quick meal and got to Rich O's at 7:30. There were already strangers in the living room area. Fuck! The island was empty though so I went to sit over there, but I glanced at the bar and saw MisunderstoodGirl. That was a very nice surprise. I sat at the bar and talked with MisunderstoodGirl and QuietDude. I also kept looking behind me to see if the fuckheads would be leaving any time soon. It didn't look good. They seemed to be well entrenched.
My first beer was a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1483). Actually, so were my second and third beers (1523).
After much discussion about such lofty topics as boobs and lesbian mail-order brides, some other stuff happened. This is the part where I shut up for a while.
After that, HatGirl and LuckyFucker came in.
MisunderstoodGirl left, so I moved down one spot and HatGirl and LuckyFucker joined me and QuietDude at the bar. I continued to turn around to check out the living room area. Actually I increased the frequency of this quite a bit. I really really really wanted to move over there.
(Seriously, I really did. The opportunity just never presented itself. I was not afraid.)
But it was not to be. The fuckheads had given their seats to some new arrivals, and so I spent the entire night sitting at the bar.
As the night at Rich O's wore to a close, the living room area did eventually empty out. Not that I cared by that point. I and QuietDude and FutureDude and DooRagGirl all moved over there.
Oh yeah, HatGirl and LuckyFucker had gone, and DooRagGirl had come in. Try to keep up please.
Then they closed Rich O's up. The four of us went over to this Mac's place that I don't like. They had a band that was covering Pink Floyd and AC/DC though, so that was pretty cool. It was quite loud there. I had a Newcastle (2308) and we sat around for an hour or so basically shouting at each other because that was the only way to be heard.
At 2:00 or so, DooRagGirl suggested that we all go to her house where we could hear ourselves think and hear each other talk. I thought that this was a great idea because we'd been talking about her pussy and I'd become obsessed with the idea of getting to pet it.
So we all went over to DooRagGirl and FutureDude's house, and I got to pet her pussy. Several times in fact. I'd heard some scary stories about her pussy but it was really quite nice. You just have to know how to treat them.
I also got to meet the famous Harry the dog.
I also had another Newcastle (2320).
At about 4:00 or so I left and went to White Castle then came home.
We'll see how well this works. My laptop is broken, and I'm sitting in the New York New York casino, in the shopping area. At a little table with a pizza design painted on top. I'm sitting under a fake tree, surrounded by fake streets. Above the storefronts are the illusions of second and third story windows. It's all fake, but still very convincing. I half expect to get mugged.
What was I getting at?
This place certainly has style, but there's no real substance behind it. Concrete and cold steel. Plaster and paint. Break through these facades and the illusion is revealed.
I had a conversation last night. At least it started out as a conversation. It ended up being more of a sermon, or an impassioned plea for understanding.
The things that you read, the things that I write, they're not fiction. I am not a storyteller. I'm not even much of a writer most of the time.
My writings describe my thoughts and my feelings and my life. Strip away the facades of flowing phrases and you really lose nothing. What you're left with may not be as refined, but it's no less real. Hell, it might even be more real.
The point I need to make is that it's often too easy for people to have a disconnect between the words that they read and the people and events behind those words. I see this reflected all the time in the comments and emails I get. People complimenting me in something I've written.
But the thing is, I'm am not an actor performing in a play. This is my life. These events are real. And beyond that, they're happening right now. This is not an historical account of my life that you're reading. It's a play-by-play description.
So, if I write about pain, then I'm hurting.
If I write about confusion, then I'm confused.
And if I write about being in love, then I'm in love.
Just not with you.
Monday morning, after I'd won a little bit of money playing video poker, I did some walking around. My plan had been to walk up to The Riviera where there's a pool tournament going on, but I only made it to Caesar's Palace.
I took a bunch of pictures.
Paris Las Vegas is quite photogenic.
I did another zoom test with my camera. Here's the unzoomed view of New York New York.
And here's the zoomed view.
I think this stained glass dome was inside Paris Las Vegas.
I took a lot of pictures of fountains. I like fountains.
I stopped at Planet Hollywood inside Caesar's and this creepy thing was on the wall.
These were cooler in person.
Here's the obligatory strip shot taken from just outside New York New York.
The first time I ever came to Las Vegas these talking statues were probably the coolest things in the city. Now they seem kind of cheesy.
I really wanted to jump into the water in front of Bellagio.
That's the Rio way out there on the right. It was too far to walk though.
For lunch, I had three Smithwick's (1004) and then I had a Guinness (1277) for dessert. I'd still like to duplicate this bar in my basement some day.
Then I came back to my room and took a nap.
I want a mountain.
Yep, that's what I want.
Not my own personal mountain. That would be way too much responsibility. But I want to live by a mountain again.
(Image stolen from some USGS site)
I miss Mt. Rainier. Even though I could go for months without ever seeing it, I always knew that it was there. And, on those days when it would appear, it never failed to impress and inspire me.
There are no mountains here, in Southern Indiana.
It's kind of boring.
LaptopGirl once said something to me about The Grand Canyon being this gigantic hole that would suck the creativity out of everyone around it. That got me to thinking that maybe mountains would do the opposite. Maybe mountains exude creative energy.
Somebody should look into getting us a mountain.
Figured I'd clean out some of the pictures on my phone.
This was a couple of weeks ago, when we all wondered if we were going to die. It's hard to tell from the picture, but a storm had gone through and left the sky an eerie purplish-brown. I went outside to check it out. With the sunset giving some context to that color it wasn't nearly as freaky.
This is just a smoldering hot girl that was at White Castle one night. She had brown hair and glasses. I was smitten.
One night, when nobody was looking, I hung a picture from DaveFest on the wall at Rich O's. I figured that none of the bartenders would be motivated enough to take it down. It's the picture on the left, and it's of me and SassyGirl.
Saturday they had this art thingy at Rich O's. This here was done by MisunderstoodGirl.
I just took a picture of this because I thought it was stupid. Maybe that's what the artist was going for.
This statue thingy reminded me of allaboutme's profile picture.
Clicking the image should pop up a larger view, if you're really bored.
Okay, this is a little disjointed.
That field to the right of the highway - that's where I grew up. There used to be a house there. There used to be a lot of shit in that area that isn't there anymore, and there's a lot of new shit that wasn't there when I was growing up.Now, this damn dream was chock full of symbolism, and I think I get most of it. But the thing I really want to know is, What the fuck did the ladder have to do with anything?
Anyway, I had my pillows and my sleeping bag, and I was camping right on the edge of the road in front of my old yard. The pillows that I had - I had three pillows with green pillowcases, which is weird because I only have one pillowcase like that in my house.
There was a kind of theme to what I was doing. "Roadside 'Blogging" or something equally nonsensical. I kept getting annoyed because passing cars would keep zooming by me without even slowing down. I kept thinking that I was going to get run over, and I didn't want to die in my sleep like that.
I was trying to get some sleep, but there were some kids across the street setting up for a concert or a huge party or something. Also, I was right near this drainage pipe (you can barely tell where it is in the picture) and there were rocks that were digging into my back.
So I gave up on sleeping, and I decided that I was thirsty and that I'd go to Polly's Freeze. Polly's is the building at the top of the picture. So I walked passed my grandmother's old house (center right of the picture) and I was almost to Polly's when I realized that it was only 10:00 or so, and that I could go to Rich O's and have a yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout instead.
I picked up a ladder and I started running back to my old yard, where I'd parked my truck. Some black guy came out of Mildred's house (on the left side of the road in the center of the picture) and he started hollering at me about something, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.
When I got back to my old yard, there was a big giant house that was being delivered. I couldn't get my truck out because the big giant house delivery had the driveway blocked. So I tried to drive my truck up the hill at the front of my old yard, but the hill was too steep and I flipped my truck.
These things were outside my window when I got up this morning. There were actually about twice this many. There was another adult and another half-dozen chicks.
The reason it's so out of focus is that I took this picture through the glass in my window, and the glass messed up my camera's auto-focus. By the time I figured out how to focus them, they were in the bushes.
I think they're turkeys, but that's just a guess.
On Monday morning they must have declared some kind of ice shortage or something, because the ice machine, located conveniently across the hall from my room, was in constant use from about 6:10 in the morning until I left at around 9:00.
What I'd decided was that I'd go and try to find a Best Buy or something so I could buy a new power adapter for my laptop.
And that's just what I did. It took a long time to find a Best Buy though.
When I got back to my room, it hadn't been touched. Big surprise.
Monday afternoon, after I'd done a little writing, I walked down to this Cleveland ChopHouse and Brewery place that the cabbie from Sunday night had recommended.
With my very yummy sirloin and my kinda rubbery shrimp, I had a couple of beers:
(draft) Black with cream-colored head and incredible lacing. Flavor slanted a bit more towards coffee than chocolate. A decent beer.Cleveland ChopHouse Saison de Chop (16)
(draft) Wow! Unexpectedly good. Extremely well-balanced and very refreshing. It also tasted like it had a higher ABV than it really does.Then I went back to my room (still no maid service) and dicked around for a while before it was time to go to the Indians game.
It was a pretty good game. Indians vs. Yankees. I heard from somebody that it was the first time this season that Jacobs Field had been sold out. I believe this is because the Indians suck this year, but I'm really not sure.
Also, and maybe it was just the area where I was seated, but there seemed to be more Yankee fans than Indians fans at the game. That's kinda sad, I think.
As is my custom, I bought a cap and rooted for the home team.
The Indians actually won. I gathered that this was a surprise to everyone, especially the Indians.
After the game was over they had fireworks, but I wanted to beat the crowd so I high-tailed it down to the Winking Lizard and grabbed a seat at the bar. I had myself an Edmund Fitzgerald (144) and then I realized, quite suddenly, that I'd be leaving Cleveland in the morning. I decided that, no matter how yummy the Great Lakes porter was, I just had to try something else.
They have a pretty impressive beer menu. You can actually see it here if you want to play along at home.
The first choice was a no-brainer. I'd loved the Harpoon Winter Warmer so much, when I'd had it in Portland, that I just had to try their Hefeweizen.
Looking at the bottle, I should have known that something was wrong:
Look a little closer:
That's a fucking citrus wedge, right there on the bottle!
Well I told the bartender that I didn't want the damn fruit wedge, bottle artwork notwithstanding. I used my standard "I'm straight" line as an excuse.
(bottle) Despite the name Hefeweizen, this is an American wheat beer. Despite that, I liked it anyway. There was none of the hop bitterness that I usually associate with this style. The thing tasted like a Belgian wheat, and it tasted good.The next beer choice took a little longer. There was this banana beer on the menu that looked intriguing, but it was an awfully big bottle and there was no guarantee that it wouldn't be disgusting. So I chose instead the following:
(bottle) Although supposedly a Belgian wheat, this had much of the aroma and flavor of a German wheat. If I had to put a label on it, I'd say that is was a blend of those two excellent styles. A very good beer from what is becoming one of my favorite breweries.During all this I spent most of the time talking to a couple of Clevelandites about various crap.
Then I walked back to my hotel.
The fucking bitch maid had not visited my room all fucking day.
After I tried to write some entries, I went to sleep, then I got up and made sure that the manager knew how lazy the maid was, then I drove home.
I feel like I need to say something here, before I say anything else. One of the things that I really hate about traveling is having to work my schedule around the hotel's cleaning people.
On Sunday morning, I was gone from my room for about four hours. When I returned, my room hadn't been touched yet.
During my driving around I'd passed this Winking Lizard place that I'd remembered from my pre-trip research. It was close to the hotel, so I decided to walk. After I'd walked a couple of hundred yards, it started to sprinkle. After I'd walked another couple of block, it started to pour. By the time I got to the bar I was soaked to the bone. I guess this Winking Lizard place is pretty famous or something. They had a decent draft selection, and a very good bottled selection. What I did was have three Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgeralds (112) and some Cajun-spiced chicken tenders while I watched the Indians game on TV.
Here are a couple pics I took inside the place:
When it was time to leave, I went out front and bought a t-shirt, and took this picture of what I must assume is the bar's mascot:
Either that, or they have a really bad pest problem.
Oh yeah, there was a smoldering hot girl sitting at the next table. She had very thin straps holding her top up. I tried using my mental powers to unravel the straps, but it didn't work. Oh well.
So I walked back to my hotel room at about 5:00, and my room hadn't been touched. I grabbed my dirty towels and went out and tracked the lazy bitch down and traded for some clean towels. I also told her that I wouldn't be needing any additional service that day.
Then I took a nap. Then I watched Catwoman on TV. Halle Berry is hot, in case you've been living in a cave on Mars and didn't know yet.
We're up to Sunday night now. I took a cab to the Rock Bottom. While there, I bought a t-shirt from an improbably cute hostess, and I had some beers.
(draft) No detectable aroma, and not much flavor. I can't tell if this is an American or a German wheat. It's very bland, but still good.Rock Bottom Riverbend Red (Cleveland) (16)
(draft) Looks and tastes like weak tea, but with the slightest hint of creamy caramel. Not too bad. If a beer like this is too much for you then you probably shouldn't be drinking beer..Rock Bottom Dawg Pound Brown (Cleveland) (16)
(draft) Very dark brown - almost black, with a nice tan head. Very roasty and malty. Not sure that this should be called a brown ale, but whatever you want to call it, it's still good.Then, once the bartender found out that I wasn't driving, he gave me this on the house:
(draft) Clear gold in color. Looks like a lager, so scary. The flavor is awesome. There are the typical apple undertones, but this is a lot thicker-tasting than most saisons I've had. Damn good. Yummy actually.The place closed up early, because it was Sunday, so I went out and stole a cab from somebody who'd called for one but didn't get there in time.
I told the cabbie to take me back to my hotel, but about halfway there I changed my mind and had him take me to the Winking Lizard instead. While there I had a Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgerald (128) and got some chicken tenders to go, then walked the short distance back to my hotel.
Sunday morning I got up way too early. I dicked around the room for a while and watched some movie that I can't remember.
Then I went and got my truck and went driving around. I had no particular destination in mind - I mainly just wanted to see the lake.
Where I ended up was this Great Lakes Science Center thingy, which is a very cool interactive museum. It's mainly for kids I guess, and about 75% of the patrons were children, but it was fun for me too. I didn't take any pictures because if I had then there would have been kids in it and I didn't want to get arrested for anything I wasn't doing.
Oh, I guess I did take one picture. They had a giant turbine thingy outside the place:
The science center was cool, but it was actually pretty small. I was able to see every exhibit in about an hour, and that's even accounting for the time I spent explaining things to the ubiquitous kids.
Before I left, I went into the gift shop to browse for a while. At one point I came upon a stand of rocks. Rocks which were, in fact, very much like my own rock. Since my rock is always in my pocket, I became concerned that I'd get accused of shoplifting. But I didn't.
Next I went to this Edgewater Park place that the hot blonde bartender at Bier Markt had told me about. I took pictures.
There was an actual beach, which I wasn't expecting.
The lake was, of course, there. It was windy as fuck.
Here I was testing my camera's zoom on a lighthouse thingy.
They had a pier thing that I wanted to walk out on.
At the end of the pier I found a dead fish.
I really wanted to get on top of one of these things.
But I couldn't see how to do it. The birds have it easier.
There were also sailboats. Did I mention them before?
I took a picture back toward the city from the end of the pier. That blue Toyota pickup is mine.
Finally, I did another zoom test.
There were storms out on the lake, but I never got lucky enough to capture any lightning with my camera. It was windy as fuck though. A bad hair day for everyone.
The Bier markt was a weird place. It was, for one thing, huge. For another thing, it was empty. At least until 9:30 or so. Before that point there had been more bartenders working the place (2) than there were customers (1, my lovely self).
The draft selection was indeed impressive. I wrote them all down but I'm not going to bore you people by listing them all here. There were a half-dozen or so Belgians that I've never even heard of. I had two:
Ommegang Rare Vos (16)
Dark copper-colored, firm head. A neutral flavor, with perhaps a touch of apple. A very fizzy mouthfeel. A good beer. The aroma was a little perfumy.Leffe Blonde (16)
Looks like a lager, so scary. Smells like unpeeled apples. OMG tastes fantastic! I may just cream. Fucking yummy.So, I liked the Leffe okay.
I spend a good amount of time talking with the hot blonde bartender. Then I found out that she's only 22 years old. Seeing nothing handy with which to kill myself, I decided to hang in there. Who knows? Maybe her grandmother is available.
At about 9:40, the place became packed, and 90% of the customers were hot girls. I decided that I loved the Bier Markt.
Also, no matter what city I go to, no matter what bar I visit, no matter where at the bar I sit, I always end up having people hovering all over me while they order their beers. Must be my after-shave.
By 11:00, I was pretty well-lit, so I walked outside to look for a cab. I ended up talking with some Clevelandites out on the patio for a while. One chick wanted a DaveFest shirt, but the one I was wearing was the only one I'd brought with me. She ended up still wanting it. So I put on my Bier Markt shirt and sold her the DaveFest shirt. Then I went back to the hotel and crashed.
(Today I went and found myself a mall and bought myself a power adapter, so I'm free to type away. But, since I'm typing into this tiny laptop keyboard, I cannot be held responsible for any typos. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.)
People that don't know me very well, people that perhaps only know my online persona, they might think that they know why I chose Cleveland for this trip. "It's the baseball," they might say. Or maybe, "It's gotta be the lake and the other scenery."
Wrong and wrong.
Other people might guess that I picked this city because of the Great Lakes Science Center or other cultural crap.
All of that shit did play a part in my decision, but the real reason, and the only reason that could have stood on its own merit - is the Great Lakes Brewery.
I took a cab to the place, though as it turned out, it was probably within walking distance. I took a few notes which I will now transcribe:
Patio area outside, packed as fuck. Not a good sign. The bar area inside, also packed. But wait! There's another section upstairs! Also packed. Shit. But wait again! There's yet another area down in the basement! Fuck, it's packed too, but I manage to cram myself in next to a guy that looks like ExBartender from Rich O's.I figured that, as long as I was there, I'd have some beer.
(draft) Almost overpowering aroma. Flavor was good, but much more subdued than the aroma had hinted. The head disappeared almost immediately. Zero fizz.Great Lakes Holy Moses White Ale (16)
(draft) Smells and tastes more like a German than a Belgian wheat. As a German, it's quite good. As a Belgian, it's a little musty.Great Lakes Elliot Ness (6)
(draft) No aroma to speak of. the taste and the mouthfeel reminded me of a dopplebock more than anything else. Not worth a full glass.Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgerald Porter (64)
(draft) I've had this before, but I don't remember what I wrote about it. Right now I want to write "yummy and roasty."The main thing about the place, aside from the beer of course, is that it's completely non-smoking. I think that the main effect that this kind of policy has on me (aside from the occasional urge to murder everyone) is that I drink very quickly. I mean, I had all of the beers listed above in one hour. Somebody should do a study on this type of thing. Instead of drink, drag, drink, drag - it was drink, drink, drink, drink.
So by 8:30 or so, I was ready to leave. I was also half-shitfaced. I'd been talking to the bartender and she'd recommended this Bier Markt place around the corner. "They allow smoking," she said, "and they specialize in Belgian beers." Once my erection subsided I bought a souvenir t-shirt and walked out to find my Mecca.
I got to Cleveland right on schedule, a little bit before 4:00. Right at my exit was Jacobs Field, home of the Indians.
This was also the point where MapQuest let me down. I had to drive around for quite a while before I found my hotel, and I had to drive around even longer before I found the parking garage.
I'd been pretty tired, and a little hung-over, during the drive up. But my arrival gave me some new energy. I was quite suddenly alert and starving. So I threw my shit into my room and I went to find the local Hard Rock. I already knew that it was close because of my pre-trip research. It turns out that it was inside a mall called The Tower Mall or some such. Here's a shitty picture I took inside the Hard Rock:
Oh yeah, here's one of he inside of the mall:
After I'd had a mushroom cheeseburger and fries, and a souvenier glass full of Guinness, I bought myself a t-shirt and then went back to the hotel.
Here are some more pics I took:
First things first. Yesterday I had the first half of the day off work, but at noon I had to go to Churchill Downs for a work thing.
I guess I'm kind of anti-horseracing. It just seems a little cruel to me, especially when they use the whips. Maybe that makes me a pansy. I dunno.
Here's a picture I took:
Anyway, that's how I spent the day Friday.
Friday night I was on my way to Rich O's, and I ran into VigilanteGirl in the parking lot at the GasNStuff. So I talked to her for a half-hour or so. This was quite disconcerting because she was looking very sexy. I displayed willpower that I didn't know I possessed by keeping my eyes locked on her own. Mostly. Drift was inevitable, and understandable, I think. Damn she's hot.
She bought a DaveFest shirt. That was nice of her.
So by the time I left GasNStuff, I was running late, but I still needed to eat something, so I stopped at the haunted Burger King for a quick meal.
While I was waiting for my food, my cousin Jeff called to let me know that he'd be coming by Rich O's later to get his DaveFest shirt.
When I finally arrived at the bar, it was crowded as fuck. A couple of PBDs were on the loveseat. ActualGeorge was at the kiddie table, and strangers and assholes were everywhere else. How could I tell the difference between strangers and assholes? I'm glad you asked. The assholes were the ones sitting on the sofa, eating, and drinking fucking water.
What a bunch of assholes.
Anyway, I stood at the end of the bar and had myself a yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout (576) and glared at the assholes. At one point I went and sat with ActualGeorge for a while but then WomanRepellant came in so I went back and stood with him.
It was pretty boring, but I didn't mind too much.
After a while the strangers left the island so WomanRepellant and I and some PBDs went and sat there.
My second beer was a half-pint of Rogue Smoke (100). I like that beer (another DaveFest selection) a lot, but I wanted to save room for more Chocolate Stout.
At about the time Jeff arrived, The PBDs were leaving the loveseat, so we went and sat there. Then the assholes left the sofa and the throne.
I guess that was pretty much it. I gave Jeff his DaveFest shirt, and we sat and talked for the rest of the night. A couple of times somebody would come in and interrogate me about DaveFest, and I did my best to sound humble about the thing. But it's hard to be humble when you're me, I suppose. At least when you're me and people are wearing shirts with your likeness on the front.
Oh yeah, that one girl that looks like Ella came in and sat out front. With her was, I shit you not, the hottest girl who has ever sat foot in Rich O's. You could hear straining zippers all over the place as erections formed on every man there.
So the night was pretty tame. WomanRepellant joined Jeff and me in the living room, and I had a couple more Rogue Chocolate Stouts (616) before they started kicking everybody out of the place.
Talked to SassyGirl tonight. She's been laying low since JauntyGirl is out of town.
She sent me a shitload of pictures from the first night of DaveFest. Some of the pictures are suitable for public viewing.
Going clockwise, my sister Neisha, her husband Chris, my lovely self, my other sister Dina, her husband Kenny, DooRagGirl, and SassyGirl.
Pretty much the same people as before, with JauntyGirl added next to SassyGirl, and WheatDude and MisunderstoodGirl on the loveseat.
That's GlassesGirl talking to Neisha.
DooRagGirl got fucked up.
SassyGirl trying to embarrass me.
Shortly after this picture was taken, things got out of hand. Sexual harrassment took place. I liked it.
I drove into this loveliness on my way home from work this evening.
I wish I had a wide-angle option on my phone. The sky was incredible.
Somehow, the lack of lightning made it even scarier.
My sister Neisha sent me this picture of us siblings.
How, I wonder, do you get a hangover without being drunk the night before?
I dunno, but I seem to have stumbled upon the secret.
Too bad I still don't have a clue what that secret might be. Maybe when the cobwebs clear out of my head.
Anyway, last night the DaveFest t-shirts were to be delivered, so I made a rare Wednesday night appearance at Rich O's, arriving at 7:00.
Some stranger was eating in the living room area, so I sat at the island and had myself a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1021). After a short while, some old lady showed up and sat across from me. I decided that the lesser of two evils was the eating guy, so I picked up my shit and moved to the loveseat.
TShirtDude arrived at about 7:45 with my shirts.
I put one on almost immediately, then I sold one almost immediately to one of the PBDs sitting at the bar. I'd kinda been hoping that HatGirl would buy the first one, but we don't always get what we want.
HatGirl (yay!) did come in a little after 8:00 to drink a beer and buy a shirt. It's always nice to see HatGirl, but seeing her wearing a DaveFest shirt was positively sublime.
My second beer was a Piraat (165).
Let's see, I also hung a shirt on the wall so people would know they're for sale:
After HatGirl left the place got really boring really quickly, but I stuck around anyway and had a couple of Newcastles (2100) and talked to TShirtDude and some guy from some website for a while.
And tonight I get to do it all over again, except I think I'll skip the Piraat.
The first two arrivals besides myself were TallLady and UplandWheatDude. I sat in the throne and talked with them for a bit until the floodgates opened up and people started flocking to the area. Before too long, the scene looked like this:
Let's see, going from left to right: My sister Neisha's hand, UplandWheatDude, My lovely self, MisunderstoodGirl, my sister Dina, Dina's husband Kenny, DooRagGirl, SassyGirl, and TacoBell. Just off-camera to the left was GlassesGirl, and off-camera elsewhere were MusicalHippyDude, TallLady, HornDog, and Neisha's husband Chris.
Notably absent when this picture was taken were HatGirl and LuckyFucker. They didn't show up until later.
Oh yeah, and EwokGirl and her posse were all out sitting in the loser section:
My sisters and their husbands all feel left out because they don't have fancy nicknames. I've been giving this some thought, and so maybe they'll get some before too long. We'll see.
The biggest surprise of the night, for me, was definitely the appearance of MisunderstoodGirl, who has been absent from my life for over six months now. I was so excited to see her that I leaped out of my chair and pretty much threw myself at her.
Let's see, my second beer was a Goose Island Honkers Ale (94). It seemed a little flat to me.
A grand time was had by all I think. One of the reasons that Roger chose me for this honor is that my beer tastes aren't too extreme. So everyone was able to find something that they liked. Even Neisha.
My third beer was a Weihehstephaner Hefeweissbier (1001).
I'm having a tough time figuring out what to write here. I guess I'll think about it some more. I've got to go to Dina's wedding reception now anyway.
(to be continued)
The hard part about writing this will be remembering what the fuck I had to drink.
I wrote it all down!
So I guess the next hardest thing will be remembering who all showed up.
There are pictures!
Maybe the hard part will be writing something that does justice to how much fun I had. Especially since I don't have much time to write anything. I've got to go to my sister's wedding reception before too long.
Oh, and I must buy cat food first.
For my cats, not for the reception. How white-trash do you think we are?
I took a day of vacation Friday, mainly to make sure that I could get my sleep schedule back on track, but also to play the new Half Life 2: Episode One game. I managed both feats, so it was worth it.
I left my house at about 5:30 and stopped by GasNStuff for some provisions.
VigilanteGirl was there!
I hadn't seen her since she left for her new job, and I actually hadn't seen too much of her in the weeks before that. She's as pretty as ever. I invited her to DaveFest though I knew very well that she wouldn't come. It was nice to see her though.
Went to Wendy's for dinner, passing up the haunted Burger King because I didn't want my mood to be spoiled. Plus, I like Wendy's. So there.
I got to Rich O's very early for me, at a little after 6:00. My first evidence that this whole thing is real and not some kind of sick joke was the front door:
They probably scared some customers away with that sign.
The next evidence came in the form of the beer board:
The DaveFest beers are the ones with the logo next to their listings.
Finally, this is the sign that announced that the living room area was reserved for me and my group:
Now, having 10 of my favorite beers on tap at the same time presents a bit of a logistical problem. Especially when I start drinking before 7:00. I knew that I'd have to really pace myself if I was going to make it through the night. So I resolved to only have half-pints, and I also resolved to start out with the lower alcohol selections.
Accordingly, my first selection was a Two Brothers Domain DuPage French Style Country Ale (210), or "that frenchy beer" as I like to call it, just to save time. I hadn't had this in a couple of years. It was yummy of course. As good I remembered.
(to be continued)
On the left, my lovely self, trying to make SassyGirl regret taking my picture.
On the right, the DaveFest t-shirt design.
Uncanny, isn't it?
I could have done without the jowls, but I've got my likeness on a t-shirt, and that's more than I ever thought would happen to little old me.
If you don't know what all this is about, you can go here and read Roger's explanation.
I'm going to be all famous and shit.
T-shirts will be available over the Internet to any of my readers that have nothing else to wear. When I find out pricing I'll post it. I'll pay for shipping on Internet orders.
It's been a pretty fantastic weekend here, weather-wise.
I realized this fact yesterday, after RockGirl's incoming email woke me up at the crack of noon, and I made the momentous (for me anyway) decision to (a) get off my ass, (b) leave my house, and (c) maybe even go someplace.
Why, Madison, Indiana of course.
Because they were having some festival or such and the NABC had a booth and they had Cone Smoker with them. And, you know, if there's anything better than drinking a Cone Smoker, it would have to be drinking a Cone Smoker in Madison.
So, basically, it gave me something to do. It also gave me a reason to take my new digital camera.
I've never been to Madison. It's about an hour up river from New Albany. I took the "scenic route" which so-named, as far as I can figure, because it's curvier than the other route.
After I'd driven for 45 minutes or so, my phone started vibrating. It was Awesome Larry, an old pool-playing friend from Omaha. So I pulled off into this ice cream place and talked with Larry for 15 minutes or so.
I know, this is boring.
When I was almost to Madison, I passed the entrance to Clifty Falls State Park. Hey! I didn't know that was by Madison! I'd gone there once as a kid with Boy Scouts or something and I remembered that it had been pretty cool, so I postponed going to the festival thingy, turned around, and went into the park.
I paid $5 to get in. I think I want my $5 back.
When I was a kid we'd been able to climb these stairs all the way down into the canyon. Then we'd been able to actually walk behind the falls. It was awesome.
Remember that scene from "The Last of the Mohicans" where they're all behind that waterfall while the bad guys are chasing them? It used to be kinda like that, except without as much water, and without people in funny wigs shooting at you.
But that was then. It was very cool.
Now, it's pretty much the exact opposite of cool.
Now, you can't do shit.
The stairs leading down to the base of the falls are gone. As near as I can tell the only ways to actually see the falls are to either jump and get a good look before you splatter onto the rocks, or hike approximately 8,764 miles up though the creek.
* drumroll *
And now, without further delay, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Clifty Falls!
What's that? You can't see shit?
Okay, I'll move over to the left and zoom in a little.
And that's all you can see. The falls are like 60 feet tall but you can only see the first few feet, and even that I don't think is the real falls.
It's not even impressive enough to make you want to pee.
So I didn't pee. I just left.
On the way back out of the park I stopped at this one overlook place and took a couple of pictures to test out the 12x optical zoom on my camera. Here's the normal shot:
And here's the zoomed shot:
Pretty cool. If there was a naked chick over there by that thingy, I'd totally be able to see her boobies!
But there were no boobies to be seen, so I left the park and continued my original journey into Madison.
This was the street down by the river where this festival was supposed to be going on. There were about 50 people there. I stopped by the beer tent and had a Cone Smoker (1796) in a plastic cup and talked to Roger.
Then I drove back home.
All in all, I'd say that the day was more interesting than doing laundry would have been, but not by much.
...and I have proof.
After I got home from Madison this afternoon, after I finished my dinner, I went downstairs to shoot some pool.
And I tripped over this:
Luckily, I seem to have killed it by tripping over it. Otherwise I'd have had to move out of my house.
I dropped the pool ball on it just in case.
Yep, it's dead.
Now I have to find my shovel so I can dispose of the thing.
I went to Rich O's after work today for a Cone Smoker (1770), and PhotoDude told me about this:
That's the blackboard over at the Sportstime side of things. Nothing written on the Rich O's side yet, but maybe they've decided to go with neon, or maybe a blimp.
Dancing girls would be cool too.
I found a picture today that makes me sad. This is good timing because the picture that I used to use for that purpose only makes me happy now.
I'm weird, I know.
Yesterday my sister Dina finally married Kenny.
It was originally going to be a nice quiet affair in Dina's back yard, but because of the rain, it ended up being more like a Keystone Kops skit, with 8,000,000 or so people all crammed into Dina's living room.
I filmed the thing, as best as I could, with Dina's camcorder, then I took a few pictures with my cellphone. One of the latter is this one:
I left the rest of the picture taking to the other 7,999,999 people.
Also, because of the weather, the happy couple decided to postpone the reception and leave for their honeymoon early.
Guess when they're doing the reception now?
Right at the beginning of DaveFest.
It'll probably come down to a coin flip for me. DaveFest is a huge honor, and not one I intent to take lightly.
Friday night was kind of a bust.
The place seemed more crowded than it was, mainly because of the presence of certain assholes.
I sat at the bar and had myself a Founder's Black Rye (32). I was pretty sure that I'd had this before, but the bartender didn't remember them carrying it. Well, I was right - I've had it before and I liked it okay.
Then some bullshit happened.
Then this one douchebag finally left the island so I moved my shit away from this one asshole and sat up there.
Coincidentally, or maybe on purpose, Rich O's also had Founder's Red Rye on tap. So I had one of those next (100). It was pretty good.
After a while, WomanRepellant came in and sat with me. Then some other people came and sat with us. Then some other people came and stood around us.
I was feeling pretty claustrophobic, and plus for some reason those two beers were going straight to my head.
So I went home.
On Saturday, SassyGirl called to see if I wanted to go over to the Cumberland Brewpub. Well, duh. Of course I did. They have such a yummy porter there.
I braved the weekend Bardstown Road traffic and met SassyGirl at about 6:30. I'd actually gotten lucky and I got to park right in front of the place. This is different than usual, when I have to park on Mars and then walk the rest of the way. So Yay!
I had a burger and fries, and a couple of yummy Cumberland Nitro Porters (160) while SassyGirl and I caught up on what's been happening since we last saw each other. We also talked about stuff like how her gaydar is quite accurate and mine sucks. I guess that makes sense though.
There was a chick at the bar that I thought was hot, and I was sure that SassyGirl would think so as well, but she once again baffled me by going, "Ehhh."
When we left Cumberland we went down the road a little to this place called Willy's. I'd never been there before, but I'd heard that they had a lot of beer on tap.
Well that part was true. Here's a picture of some of their 68 taps:
Pretty impressive, but also quite hard to read all those taps. Luckily they had a beer menu so we checked it out.
Proving once again that great minds think alike, except when it comes to which girls are hot, we chose the same beer:
(draft) I guess this place has gone out of business. Hmmm, I wonder how long this beer has been sitting in the keg. The first thing I noticed was that it was quite thin. Like water. It took me a long time to figure out how to describe the flavor. That's because there was nothing. It was all roasted malt. I think I'd have liked this better if it wasn't so old-tasting.Seriously, the beer compared to a porter the way a 7up compares to a Coke. The underlying structure was there, but it wasn't holding anything up. Plus, it had an extremely watery mouthfeel.
SassyGirl had to get ready for work, so we left Willy's at about 9:00. I took this picture of the dance floor on the way out:
Apparently there's a giant iguana that lives under there. Those are Mannequins of The Blues Brothers. Weird.
So I dropped SassyGirl back off at her truck and headed back to Indiana.
First thing I did, because I was in a mischievous mood, was go to Buckhead's. I didn't really plan to heckle my friend who recently started working there, but I wasn't feeling averse to making her think I was going to heckle her. For a minutes anyway.
Well, she wasn't there, but sometimes shit happens even when it's not the shit you were expecting.
MixedSignalGirl was there.
I was walking around the bar, looking at all the waitresses to see if my friend was working, and I nearly ran into MixedSignalGirl. She'd been walking around the bar, in the opposite.direction, looking for me.
Okay, to be fair, she wasn't quite looking for me. Just wondering if I was there. Well, I was. And so was she.
We spent a good few minutes joking about how fate had once again thrown us together. That's kind of a theme with us.
But she couldn't stay. She'd ordered food for herself and the asshole, so we went our separate ways.
It was still early, so I went to Rich O's next.
The place was actually pretty dead. I loved it. I sat at the bar and had a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (873) and talked for a bit with ElPresidente.
Once the PBDs cleared out, I had a bit of an episode. I looked at this...
...and felt a little nostalgic. Okay, a lot nostalgic.
Luckily that wave of emotion passed through me quickly, and I felt fine after that. I came home and shot some pool until about 4:00.
Everybody told me that I just had to go to Schlafly's bar slash brewery.
So I did.
I went there at around four I think. I drove myself, figuring that I could always take a cab back to the hotel if the situation warranted.
It's a pretty big place, and at first I thought they might be closed because the parking lot was almost completely empty. Inside was almost empty too. There were just two people sitting at the bar. Some dude and some lady.
I recognized the dude!
It was EvilLou, a pool player I know from my days on the rec.sport.billiard newsgroup and also from the Derby City Classic.
Man what a small world it is.
Of course I knew that EvilLou lived in St. Louis so I guess I shouldn't have been that surprised. I, on the other hand, surprised the shit out of him.
So I sat at the bar and talked with EvilLou and his wife while I had some beer.
It's always a crap shoot as to whether a hefeweizen is in the true German style or the crappy American style. This was American, so I didn't like it. As with most beers, however, this did get better as the glass got emptier. By the end, it was passable. This is not the beer's fault - I just don't like the style.Here's the only picture I took inside this place:
My next beer was much better:
More malty than other Scotch Ales I've tried, and that extra maltiness was needed to help mask the alcohol. A very good beer.EvilLou and his wife left while I was drinking that last beer, so when I looked at the beer list and saw nothing interesting at all, I decided to head over to another brewpub.
The place I went to was called the Square One brewpub.
I guess they're affiliated with the Augusta brewery because all of the coasters were from that place.
I had myself some yummy beer-battered chicken tenders, and a beer sampler tray. They had a Belgian Red listed, and that sounded intriguing, but the waitress said they were out. Oh well.
Pretty good. Malty with a hint of cola to balance it out. A lot like Goose Island Hex Nut Brown Ale.Square One California Common (2)
Hoppy and malty, with a bitter finish. Common is a very good name for this beer - there are a zillion just like it, and I don't like any of them.Square One Bavarian Weizen (6)
The aroma is fantastic, as is the flavor. Maybe a bit more mellow than other German-style wheats. A very good beer.Square One Stout (6)
A typical dry stout. Nothing wrong with it at all but nothing great either. Quite roasty, and better than average I suppose.I had myself another of the Weizens (26) and that was it for me for a while.
I ended up taking a cab back to the hotel.
Saturday morning I was, remarkably, not hung-over.
I know you were all worried.
I had a 12:40 ticket to go up in the arch, but I woke up at about 8:00, so I spent some time walking around downtown St. Louis looking for something to eat. I was really craving an omelet and sausage, but I settled for Burger King. It was good though.
At around 10:00 I walked down to the arch. I took more pictures. The sky was really cool looking. Even my crappy cellphone camera did a good job.
This is my favorite picture out off all of the ones I took. This was looking straight up at the arch while I was standing in the security line.
If you've never been under the arch before, there's a whole Westward expansion museum down there. It's pretty cool, and I don't understand why I didn't take any pictures. I just dicked around for an hour or so while I waited for 12:40 to arrive.
I was pretty excited to be finally going up in the thing. I must have visited the arch a dozen times in my life, but I never went up in it before.
At about 12:20, I got in line. The chick that was checking everybody's tickets looked at me and asked me if I was alone. I said, "Yes I am. Hard to believe, isn't it?"
That's one of my standard jokes.
Then ArchGirl told me that they had an opening for a single in the trams that were leaving next, so she gave me a red boarding pass and I got to walk right by all those other suckers and go join the group that was just getting ready to board.
I really had no idea what to expect. I mean, I knew enough to know that regular elevators would not be able to negotiate the curve of the arch, but I guess I was expecting something that at least looked like an elevator from the inside.
What they do is, they have you climb through these tiny doors into these tiny compartments. It must be an awful lot like climbing into a front-loading washing machine would be. Sharing compartment #5 with me were some dude and his two cute daughters. In compartment #6 was the guy's wife and their four other kids. Wow.
The littlest girl kept asking her dad if she was going to be "sceered." It was the most adorable thing I'd ever heard.
Her father told her that she might get a little "sceered" once the thing turned upside-down. That was funny.
I didn't take any pictures of the capsule thingies either. I don't know why. I guess I was just too excited.
The ride up was pretty cool. There were tiny windows in the tiny doors and I could look out and see the staircase that people had to use back in the olden days. Actually I think the stairs looked like fun. I wish they'd have given us the option of taking them on the way down, but they said that the stairs were only for emergencies.
After about a four-minute ride, we reached the top.
The observation deck is pretty small, and this chick to the left didn't help matters.
Of course I took pictures out the windows of the thing:
This next one is looking straight down:
A British guy asked me to take a picture of him and his wife, so I did. Then I asked if they'd take mine, so he did. An added bonus in this picture is BritishGuy's finger:
Another thing that was funny was that I told the little girl who'd been in my capsule with me that the maintenance hatches in the floor were actually trap doors. Her sister asked me why on Earth they'd put trap doors in the arch, and her dad piped in with, "They let people bungee jump through them. Didn't I tell you? We jump in ten minutes."
Both girls ran screaming to their mother.
On the way back down I had to share a capsule with the fat chick from the picture up above. That's karma for you.
Friday night after the game I hailed a cab and took it to this Growlers place that I'd heard about.
It's easy to get to: You just go to the Moon and then take a left.
That means that it's pretty far away from downtown. The cab ride cost me forty bucks with tip.
Anyway, I did something kind of stupid, but there was just no way I could have known.
I sat at the bar.
There was a constant crowd of people standing all around me, leaning all over me as they tried to get the bartender's attention to order their drinks. I got extremely claustrophobic and I actually started regretting my decision to come to the place.
But I had to justify that forty buck cab fare, so I drank.
The place has a pretty impressive beer menu, both in selection and in price. The selection part is a good thing. The price part is not so good. They charged $8.50 for a bottle of Delirium Tremens. That's just ridiculous.
But I wasn't going to be drinking bottled beer anyway, so no skin off my back. I checked out the draft selections. There were maybe 30 beers on tap, almost all of which I've had before at one time or another. There was nothing that really jumped out at me, so I just had myself a Newcastle (1856).
The place was a freaking madhouse!
While I had my Newcastle I kept looking around for a more private place to site, and eventually one of the tables opened up, so I hightailed it over there. I had that table to myself for maybe five seconds before three people joined me. I'll call them OriginalDude, PlayaDude, and SweetAssGirl. These three ended up being my companions for the rest of the evening.
My second beer was a Fat Tire (105). I hadn't had this in a long time. It was good.
The three of us sat around for a while and talked. They all knew each other but obviously they didn't know me. I told them about my Easter trip custom and shit like that.
My third beer was another Fat Tire (125).
Here's the view from where I was sitting. Those are barrels up there. It's kind of hard to tell though.
So, as near as I can figure it, OriginalDude and SweetAssGirl have been friends for like their entire lives. OriginalDude is clearly in love with her, but SweetAssGirl is either clueless about that fact or she's just choosing to ignore it. She actually spent most of the night either flirting with me or with PlayaDude.
Towards the end, PlayaDude was falling victim to SweetAssGirl's charms much more readily than I was, so I spent most of my time talking with OriginalDude.
My fourth beer was a Guinness (1217).
At one point these four chicks joined us. I think they knew SweetAssGirl and OriginalDude from before. One of them was quite pretty - she actually looked a lot like this girl.
Oh yeah, I had myself some very yummy blackened chicken quesadillas.
My fifth beer was a Diet Coke. I cut myself off after that Guinness.
I guess Missouri must have some draconian blue laws in place, because the place was still packed as shit when they did last call and eventually kicked us all out.
The cab back to the hotel cost me another forty bucks.
After I left Morgan Street, it was time to hit the Cardinal's new park for the game.
It was fun. I always like going to games. Of course the Cards lost, but I guess technically I'm supposed to be more of a Reds fan anyway. I didn't tell anyone that though. I even bought a Cardinals cap.
Anyway, I took some pictures.
The new park is a pretty confusing place. Parts of it are like a maze. I think it might be my least favorite of the new parks I've been to as far as getting around goes, but it's got a lot more character than the new parks in Cincinnati or Chicago, so I like it.
Both Friday and Saturday were quite busy, so I'll be breaking this trip report up into several entries. Otherwise it's just seems like too daunting a task and I'd probably never get to it.
So, Friday afternoon. I checked into my hotel. It seemed like a cool place at first.
But I quickly discovered that the "free Internet access in every room" was simply a myth to lure in customers. I had no signal in my room, and when I called them to complain they basically told me that I was SOL, and why not just take my laptop down to the lobby? There's a strong signal there.
So that sucked, but I wasn't supposed to be sitting at my computer all weekend anyway.
Once I'd checked in, I took off down the hill to see the arch. Should that be capitalized?
I dunno. Or care.
I took a shitload of arch pictures. I'm only going to post a few though. You'll thank me later.
This next one is semi-interesting. This was the first time I'd touched the arch in twenty years or so. I didn't cry though.
As I'd expected, the ride to the top was completely sold out, so I bought a ticket for 12:40 on Saturday. Then I walked over to Laclede's Landing to check out this Morgan Street Brewpub place. Behold my photographic prowess.
While I was at Morgan Street I figured what the heck, I'll have some beer.
The bartender didn't know if it was a German-style or and American-style wheat, so I just had a sampler glass. It's American-style, so I didn't like it. The honey was not apparent except that the usual hop bitterness I find in this style was not there. Bland and boring.The bartender said that it was their most popular beer by a wide margin. This did not bode well.
I also had a sample of this Winter Lager stuff (4) which I'll get to in a minute.
Fucking yummy and chocolately and yummy. Whoever says that there's no good beer at Laclede's Landing is an idiot. This beer was worth the trip all by itself.Morgan Street Dopplebock (4)
Quite boring and generic. No hint at all of the strangeness that I usually associate with this style. I see no point to even making this beer.Morgan Street Winter Lager (20)
Despite the name, this is an oatmeal stout aged in used Jack Daniel's barrels. The bartender says that every beer in the place is "lager-style" which to me means yeast. Whatever they call it, this beer is yummy.I really wanted to talk to the brewer to see if the bartender was full of shit about the "lager-style" stuff. But he is apparently out of town. I have to ask some of the homebrewing PBDs at Rich O's.
SassyGirl finally managed to send me these pics she took Saturday night:
This was before they made me put on the hat.
Me and SassyGirl. The hat was her idea.
SassyBoy joined us for the next picture.
Then SassyBoy's boyfriend joined us.
This me trying to look like I really don't know what happened to the hat.
Me and SassyGirl acting like idiots Saturday night.
There were many more pictures taken. The others she must have deemed too hideous to send me.
Last night was SassyGirl's party. Of course I went.
I only knew a handful of the people there, but I think that's part of the appeal of the thing. I don't know them, and they don't know me. It usually takes a while for people to figure out how fucked up I am.
Here are some people I didn't know. The King Kong Bundy guy I have seen at Rich O's before though.
SassyBoy, TacoBell, and SassyGirl hamming it up for the camera. SassyBoy got fucked up.
SassyGirl had a keg of some NABC beer (I think it was the Bob's Old 15B Porter), but I took my own stuff. I had three bottles of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (799) and a bottle of Baltika 6 (324) plus a sip or two of Panil Barrique (10), which I'd brought for SassyGirl.
It was fun I suppose, but (surprise!) I'm not much of a party person. For me the fun part is watching everybody act like fools. I also spent a lot of time trying to convince SassyGirl's cat that I wasn't going to torture and kill and eat it.
I got bored and left at about 12:30.
Then, as is usual, I got sad on the drive home because I couldn't help but think about how the last time I was ever happy was driving home from a party at SassyGirl's house back in 2004, with LaptopGirl beside me I think I need to find a different route to take home the next time.
This was spotted with the rest of our incoming mail at work today.
Here's a picture of Paco the Alpaca, brought to me all the way from Peru by SassyGirl.
Paco is admiring my second yummy bottle of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (606).
On Grant Line Road, in New Albany Indiana, just South of I-265, there is a Burger King. Just like uncountable Burger Kings scattered all over creation. You either like the food, or you don't. You either like the convenience, or you feel that it's too high a price to pay for what places like that do to local mom and pop restaurants. You certainly don't go there for the atmosphere and the ambience.
At least most people don't go there for those things.
I'm not like most people. And, to me, that Burger King on Grant Line Road is not like most Burger Kings.
To me, that place is haunted.
Not haunted the way Rich O's is, with memories of better times, and a sparkling presence that sits beside me when I feel alone, and a million reminders of what was, and a million more reminders of what might have been.
Nope, not like that at all. That Burger King is haunted by me.
For that Burger King, on Grant Line Road, in New Albany Indiana, just South of I-265, in the third parking spot on the right when you pull in, that's where I died. That's where pieces of my shattered heart fell onto the pavement on that night back in October 2004. That's where my long scream began. That's where the echoes of that scream are the loudest.
When I go there, I always park in that same spot if it's available. It usually is. Like it's waiting for me.
I remember, back in Junior High, walking through the field at Gettysburg during a field trip, and imagining all of those that had perished there. Trying to pick up any sensations from souls that might still linger around that blood-soaked ground.
I wasn't able, back then, to feel anything out of the ordinary. Maybe that's because it just didn't seem real to me, and I had no connection to those poor soldiers, and it had all happened so long ago. Or maybe there was truly nothing there to feel. Maybe it's all a bunch of mumbo jumbo.
Maybe this is simply my imagination, yet another manifestation of my unwillingness to let all this go. Maybe this is just another symptom of my insanity.
But whatever. When I pull into that parking spot, I feel something there. Something that carries me back to that night and forces me to relive it.
I don't struggle, when my ghost bullies me like that. It's actually kind of nice, in a weird way.
Okay, so the house in the lower left is mine, and the house in the upper left - two houses up from me - that house isn't there any more.
Pretty messed up.
I don't know why the picture turned out so small. I guess the guy that took the picture messed something up.
That's right, suckers! I got a new rock for my birthday! And this one I get to keep!
So, ha ha!
This entry brought to you by:
Zinnebir XMas (25)
(bottle) The aroma was almost overpowering at first, but after that it was difficult to even detect. The flavor was mild and tasty. It was kind of strange to pull a cork from a bottle of beer and find something this generic inside. Good, but not great.I'm not complaining.
Really, I'm not.
I did this to myself, on purpose, with full awareness of what it was going to do to my mood. I knew what was going to happen, and I did it anyway. For several reasons. Eight or so that I've mentioned publicly, and at least one that I've kept private. I did it because it was necessary.
So I'm not complaining.
Observing that this can, and has, picked up exactly where it left off. I sort of thought that it might have faded a little bit after so many months. I sort of thought that, like a two-liter bottle of Coke, that things might have gone a little flat despite being so tightly capped.
The only thing that's different, the only thing that's different this time is that I seem to be able to withstand it better than I did before.
Which is, of course, not saying much, because before I couldn't withstand it at all. Because before, it was killing me.
Now, I think I just might survive. Whatever that means. However I might define who I am. What I am.
But you know, that's okay. It's nice to feel something again. It's nice to just let things wash over me again. It's nice to just let these emotions flow through me and dictate my moods. It takes all the pressure off my brain when I let my heart run things for a while.
I'd thought that, once I'd proven my point, that I'd put those corks back in. I'd thought that, once I'd reassured myself that what was truly important to me hadn't changed one fucking bit, that I'd bottle these feelings back up and get on with my life again.
And therein lay the problem with my great plan. There might not be a life to get on with.
I once wrote these words:
For he died in the depths, and he was reborn in the depths. Without their cold embrace he cannot exist.The he referred to was, of course, my lovely self.
You know what? I miss her. I have no reasonable rationale for still missing her after all this time. I have no justifiable excuse for what happened to me when she left. I have no logical explanation for how these feelings can still flow through me so strongly.
And right now, right now I don't want any of those things.
Right now, I just want to lie back, and remember, and imagine, and wish, and smile, and hope, and cry, and long, and laugh, and wait, and dread, and hurt, and love.
What's a little insomnia if it gives me all that? That's a pretty small price to pay, if you ask me.
Because I'm on this poll again over at Ella's journal, I figured that I'd post some pictures.
I also owe you an evil update.
So I'll kill both birds with one stone.
I'm all efficient and shit.
Tonight I was downstairs making a little practice video for myself, and when I was finish with that, I took advantage of the camera and the lighting to check out my evilness.
I guess I'll keep it for a while longer. It's still got some filling in to do.
I don't know where to start this entry.
At the beginning seems like the logical place, but it just doesn't read correctly in my head.
Oh well, I'm going to start at the beginning anyway.
I took the day off work today. One hour of sleep just wasn't going to cut it. I had some comp time coming to me from having to work all day Sunday. I'd planned to use that to have my birthday off, but there was no way I could have gone into work today, so I used my comp time a month early.
Anyway, I didn't do fuck all day long, really. I slept until 11:30 or so, then dicked around on the computer and downstairs on the pool table.
At 2:30 or so, SassyGirl invited me to meet her at Rich O's after work.
Little did she know, I wasn't even at work. Muhaha.
Since I had laundry going, I agreed to meet her at 4:00.
Once there, I had myself a half an Upland Winter Warmer (120). Why just the half-glass? Because I'd decided that I'd go ahead and buy myself some new glasses. So I'd called in to LensCrafters ahead of time to make sure that they had everything in stock, and I figured I'd go there and pick up my glasses after Rich O's.
Since LensCrafters has glasses in about an hour, I had an hour to kill between the time I got my pupils measured and the time I'd be able to pick up my new glasses. To kill that time, I invited SassyGirl to go to Red Lobster with me (it's right across the street from the mall) and she agreed.
Let's see, during dinner SassyGirl's phone rang, and she saw that it was TrainGirl, so she handed me the phone so I could answer. TrainGirl didn't recognize my voice, not that I can fault her for that.
Also, with my dinner, I had a glass of Blue Moon (210). I'd remembered to asked for an unchilled glass, but I forgot about the fruit garnish so they put a fucking orange wedge in the thing. I guess I got it out before it completely ruined the beer, because it tasted okay.
After we left Red Lobster we went back to get my glasses. Here they are:
And here are the old ones:
After that we went back to Rich O's.
While there, I had myself an NABC Old Lightning Rod (110), and later a half-glass of Guinness (1040). DooRagGirl came in and sat at the kiddie table and talked to me for a while. She kindof noticed my new glasses, but only because I'd taken them off and was waving them in her face.
Tonight didn't feel at all like a Tuesday night, but it was. I do have to work tomorrow, so I came home early.
Man, what a difference a day makes!
The past two nights had been pretty much unbearable at Rich O's, but Friday night was pretty decent. Good in fact.
I arrived a little after 7:00. It was pouring down rain. There were some strangers scattered around but the living room area was empty except for DooRagGirl and LaptopGirl's ex, who I will start calling WheatDude for reasons that should be obvious.
I ordered an Upland Chocolate Stout (180) and enjoyed that while marveling at our ability to have an actual discussion without having to shout. Mostly we just talked about how pleasant it was. I also made a couple of beer recommendations to WheatDude.
A little before 8:00 HatGirl called me, I guess because DooRagGirl's phone was broken. She wasn't sure if she was going to come in. I handed my phone to DooRagGirl so she could talk some sense into her friend, then I crossed my fingers and toes and eyes.
It worked! DooRagGirl went to pick her up.
Let's see, I talked with SassyGirl. She was on her way for a quick drink or two before work. That's okay though - she just drives zillion-ton trains for a living. But you don't have to steer them.
At about the time DooRagGirl came back with HatGirl I was finishing my second Upland (200), and I'd started my third (220).
I took the girls over to see the port tasting party going on in the new area:
We were very quiet, so as not to startle the port people.
From my fourth Upland, I only drank about half the glass (230). This was because I'd had the brilliant idea of having an Alaskan Smoked Porter put on ice for later. Everybody wanted to try what I'd been touting as one of the world's best beers, so I let everybody have a sip.
I think they all liked it - especially DooRagGirl who tried to steal my glass.
I feel the need to interject here that I'm probably going to have to have a talk with WheatDude. Just because a girl is in a slightly bad mood, that does not mean that she's "ripe for the picking," as he so crassly suggested. Plus I'm a gentleman.
Once WheatDude had left, and SassyGirl had left, and these other two people who are friends of SassyBoy had left, it was just Me, DooRagGirl, and HatGirl. I moved over to the throne and HatGirl moved over to the loveseat. It was like I was in a little cocoon made of hot girls. Hot girls with boyfriends, as I'd had to remind WheatDude several times.
At one point I started craving Steak N Shake, and I decided that I was going. This extra driving meant that I had to cut my drinking off a little early. DooRagGirl was more than happy to relieve me of the last of my Alaskan Smoked Porter (238).
I had a couple Diet Cokes. HatGirl wanted to go to Steak N Shake. DooRagGirl didn't want to go unless her boyfriend could get off work, so I ended up taking HatGirl in my truck. Good thing I'd just given it its annual cleaning.
Well Steak N Shake was a bust, and we ended up going to Denny's instead. This was the first time I'd been in this particular Denny's since about a zillion years ago when I took SpoonsGirl there. The food was yummy, the company was charming.
I dropped HatGirl off at her house and managed to find my way out of that maze of streets, then I came home and dicked around until a little after 4:00.
I've got a couple of days to try to get my sleep schedule back to normal, or Tuesday morning is going to really suck.
Well my initial plan was to try this evil thing for a month and see if it worked out.
My own opinion is that it isn't working. My hair is just so damn fair you can hardly tell it's there. And there are still some gaps around the edges that I'm not convinced are ever going to fill in. There's also a bit of a symmetry problem.
But my sister Neisha says she'll kill me if I don't give it at least another month, and MixedSignalGirl gave me a grooming kit for Christmas, so I'll be sticking with it for a while longer.
Forgive me for this. I'm having one of those bad face days. Plus the phone always does this fisheye thing with close-up pictures. My nose really doesn't take up half my face.
It is kind of neat though. To look at more or less the same face in the mirror for forty years gets a little old. I only wish this face I still see didn't look so old sometimes.
I was also expecting some gray in my facial hair, but there's none. My dad had very little gray when he died at age 56, so I guess I get that from him.
Before going out tonight, I first had to get ready.
Tonight was going to be the big beer-off between two of my all-time favorites; Rogue Chocolate stout and Upland Chocolate Stout.
I was way too excited over a couple of beers being on tap at the same time, but I'm bottling everything else up and I need to have some outlet for my emotions, so fuck off.
Besides, I take my duties as unofficial Rich O's beer reviewer very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that I had VigilanteGirl help me put together a special uniform for tonight's activities.
Behold me in all my scruffy and/or evil glory:
If you look closely enough (not at my crotch you perverts) you may notice a reflective patch on my shirt. This shirt normally says Irish Stout Official Taster on it but tonight, for one night only, the word Irish has been replaced:
At around 4:30, I called the bar and asked Roger, the owner, if he was going to shatter my dreams again. He assured me that both of my favorite chocolate stouts were indeed on tap.
Having thus confirmed that my mission was still a go, I arrived at Rich O's a little after 5:00 PM. Right off the bat, I checked the board:
Yay! They were both listed!
Did I mention that I was excited?
Well, I was.
I ordered a half glass of Rogue Chocolate Stout (318) and a half glass of Upland Chocolate Stout (70), which will hereafter in this entry be referred to simply as Rogue and Upland, and I sat in the throne with my beers and my notebook to begin my beer-off.
With both beers in front of me, calling to me, I tried to remain as scientific and impartial as I could. I alternated each beer through each of the following tests:
Upland: Jet Black
Rogue: Jet Black
Upland: Beige, faded quickly to a thin coating
Rogue: Light brown, lasted forever
Conclusion: Rogue easily wins this contest
Upland: Good chocolate aroma, a bit sharp when inhaled deeply
Rogue: Rich and malty chocolate aroma
Conclusion: Rogue easily wins this contest
Upland: Dryer than I remembered, with a touch of coffee but mostly a slightly bitter chocolate - yummy
Rogue: Tastes like it smells, rich and malty and chocolately - fucking yummy
Conclusion: Rogue easily wins this contest
Upland: A decent thickness, more syrupy than anything else
Rogue: Thick and creamy
Conclusion: Rogue wins this contest by a nose
Rogue wins in a landslide.
I want to make this perfectly clear: The Upland Chocolate Stout is a fucking fantastic beer. On any night in which the Rogue wasn't on tap, the Upland would almost definitely be my favorite. There's not a damn thing wrong with the Upland - it's just no Rogue. And that's not such a bad thing. I, for example, am no Brad Pitt, but give me a try and you'll keep coming back. Unless Brad just happens to be in the room, then I'm screwed.
Prologue: Same as last night. I sat at the bar and wrote in my notebook when I felt like it.
I arrive and order a Rogue Chocolate Stout (80). Tastes awful because I just brushed my teeth. The solution: Drink faster.
Here's my rock admiring the Tilted Kilt glass.
It's pretty dead in here right now, at least at the bar. Good.
A couple in their forties just sat next to me. They're looking at the beer list. I'm going to guess: Bud Light for her and Sam Adams's for him.
I was off, but not as far off as you might think. He got a Sin City Amber and she got a Sprite. I hate them.
One of the waitresses was complaining that somebody took her picture without permission. I told her that it happens to me all the time. I'm not sure what's so funny, but she laughed and touched my arm. She must want it up the butt.
I'm revising my opinion of the couple next to me. The girl is in her mid-thirties, and the guy with her may be her father.
Another Rogue (96). Fucking yummy.
Another revision. The chick is a pro and the dude doesn't know it. He actually thinks that she's interested in him.
The john just got a black and tan. He's telling the hooker that it's what everybody in Europe drinks. What a dork.
I wonder if every entry I make this week is going to be this boring.
There are some incredibly ugly people in the world.
Some fuckers just sat to my right. I'm guessing three Foster's. I may have to close my notebook as one of the fuckers is being nosey.
Two Grey Goose Martinis and one Bacardi & Coke. I should have known, but my brain is geared toward beer.
I'm taking off my glasses. Watch out ladies!
Steve the bartender is working tonight. We're talking about how freaked out I was at this time last year.
Showed PictureGirl my rock. She thinks it's cute. She definitely wants it up the butt. My dick, not the rock.
A hot girl just sat to my left.
This glass is almost empty. Do I want another Rogue?
Yes. Yes I do (110).
The hot girl left. Oh well.
I can feel myself being pulled to the Southeast. I wonder, if I'm being pulled by her, am I not also pulling her toward me?
Time to take a piss.
A goth couple just sat to my right. My guess: Guinness for both of them.
I nailed it.
GothGuy is smoking a clove cigarette. Now I'm starving to death.
Today I went up to downtown and dicked around for a few hours.
Here's a picture of the famous cowboy on Fremont Street.
To eat and drink, I went to the 777 Brewpub at Main Street Station.
I mentioned back in May, but the Black Chip Porter there is world-class. I had a large glass (69) and chased it with a small glass (81).
Here's my rock being all jealous of my yummy beer.
Now it's time to take a nap before I head back to the bar tonight.
Because even at 7:00 AM, even if I'm the only person at the bar, a beautiful girl will still get up on the stage thingy and dance for me.
After checking into my room, and managing a fitful nap, a woke up a little after 5:00 and went down to the casino.
First things first. I needed to eat. So I went to this All American Bar place for a burger and fries. That's not why I went there though. I went there because they have Alaskan Amber, one of my all-time favorites.
I ended up having two of them (2024) with my dinner. Absolutely yummy.
This is just a picture of the bar. Exciting, isn't it?
Next, and if you've been reading me for more than six months you already know this, I went to The Tilted Kilt. Probably my favorite bar in Las Vegas, and definitely my favorite place on the strip.
The only person there that I knew is this one waitress. She remembered me, which I will consider to be a good thing because I'm not the type that gets remembered for being obnoxious.
To drink, I had some of the best beer I've ever had the pleasure of drinking.
(draft) A fantastic beer, from the intense chocolate syrup aroma through the creamy mouthfeel to the delicious finish. Beyond yummy.
I kinda wanted to just stay there and drink these all night long, but I'm still, even in Las Vegas, a lightweight. So I came up here to write some journal entries.
Now I'm going back down to drink some more.
After work Wednesday, as I said in my last entry, I went to Rich O's to see RealTainGirl.
Checking the board, I saw quite a few beers that looked interesting. One that I'd never heard of before. I asked the owner to describe it, then tried it anyway:
(draft) I just had a small sample glass of this, as I was not expecting to like it. I was right. Had that dirty sock aroma that I associate with too many hops. It was very watery tasting, but had sort of a thick mouthfeel. Hard to believe that this comes from Rogue.Because I hadn't expected to like the Rogue, I'd also ordered an old favorite that hasn't been available since this time last year. A pint of Goose Island Christmas Ale (120) went down quite nicely.
There was something strange going on in the red room. Roger was having some kind of private tasting for a bunch of guys in suits. That was odd enough, but the really weird part was that they had a spit bucket! RealTrainGirl and I decided that they were a bunch of pussies.
Since we were enjoying ourselves so much making fun of the spit bucket brigade, I decided to stay for another half pint. At about the time I ordered my Spezial (950) these people came in:
I know, that's a pretty useless picture. That is a picture of a hot girl carrying a microphone, and another hot girl carrying a camcorder. With them, but not pictured, was some dork with a notebook.
They were doing some kind of profile on Rich O's for IUS, the local small college. The hot girl with the microphone interviewed a couple of the after-work PBDs, then she came over and interviewed me for a bit. She could tell that I was interview-worthy because I was sitting on the throne.
I showed great restraint by actually looking her in the eyes instead of at her chest. The concentration needed for this, unfortunately, also prevented me from saying anything funny. RealTrainGirl was clearly disappointed that I hadn't used my camera time to poke fun at the bucket brigade.
See, this is what happens when I forget my rock. I end up on TV or something. If I'd had my rock then it could have been on TV too.
For those of you with lives, those of you that don't have the great beers of the world memorized so you can recognize them simply from the bottle, this is Delirium Tremens. One of the world's finest beers.
This is my desert island beer.
And it's fitting that I'm drinking this now, because while I often feel like I am very much alone on an island, this day, with its crowding and its socializing and its obligations, this day magnifies that feeling more than any other. You can be completely surrounded, but if the right person isn't there, you're still alone.
That's an official Delirium Tremens glass, too. I used to have two of these glasses. This one's mate is far away now.
Part of my problem is that I read too much into things. I look for hidden signs everywhere. And not just signs. I have to look for the bad in everything I see. And I keep looking until I find it.
I can take the most heartfelt compliment and twist it into an insult. I can take the simplest greeting and turn it into a goodbye. This is my super power. But I don't use it to ward off evil, I use it to ward off everything and everyone.
Well, almost everyone.
Why, I wonder, can't I ever recognize good for what it is? Why is it that I can immediately see the bad, but when something good presents itself I must transform it into something else?
I dunno. Probably because I'm a dumbass.
So I'm drinking my symbolic beer (379), my second of this night. Later I'm going to have a third. Good thing I'm staying home tonight. After I drink my beers I'm going to go downstairs and shoot some pool. Maybe make some movies if I can remember to turn the camera on.
It's midnight now. November 24th is over. Good riddance.
Tonight, I was in a strange mood.
Not good, not particularly bad. I guess nostalgic would be a good description. Makes sense, anyway.
I tried a couple of times to call SpikeBoy to see if he was in the mood to do something besides Rich O's tonight, but I couldn't get in touch with him. Oh well, can't say I didn't try.
So what I ended up doing first, to help make up for not going to the cemetery today, was go to The Hitching Post and have myself a Falls City (24) in Dad's honor. Straight from the can like a real man would drink it.
I talked to the bartender for a bit, told her what I was doing there, but she'd only been working there for a couple of years so she didn't remember Dad. On the way out some dude initiated the brief conversation depicted two entries ago.
Next, big surprise, I went to Rich O's. There, big surprise, I had a Bell's Kalamazoo Stout (95).
I started out sitting at the island, talking with ExBartender and CoffeeDude, but then this old fuckhead sat with us and he pissed me off so I went and stood at the bar and talked with FutureDude for a while.
My next beer was an Avery Old Jubilation Ale (50), which I haven't had in a year and which was quite yummy.
After a while DooRagGirl (FutureDude's girlfriend) came in so I went to White Castle and then came home.
The kitty wasn't at White Castle tonight, for those of you who care about that sort of thing.
Today I slept a lot.
I slept from about 10:00 until 7:00, then I decided that going to work would be stupid.
So I slept from 9:00 until 1:30.
Then I had to do some work. I had a conference call with some vendor support people. It was quite trippy trying to deal with technical issues with a fever.
Next I slept from 4:00 until 9:00. I had the strange dream.
After that I took a long, hot shower and I actually felt better. I felt halfway normal actually.
So I went down to Rich O's.
All I did there was have myself a Bell's Kalamazoo Stout (70), and talk to BamaCouple for a while. Once they left I had part of another glass of the stout (75) and then I went to White Castle.
Here are some pictures of the cat at White Castle, which I have named Slider and which I hope to be able to actually pet some day.
This entry brought to you by:
Rogue Imperial Stout (26)
(bottle) Hard to find anything wrong with this beer. If I had to pick something it would be the high ABV which limits the amount that can be consumed. A yummy chocolately flavor with a fairly intense alcohol burn. Quite good, and I will be buying more bottles which I will try to let age.So, this is tough, writing this entry.
I can think of a million reasons why I've been putting it off, and I'll list them right now, one by one.
No, I'm kidding. I'd never do that to you.
Instead I'll just start typing and hope that the main reason reveals itself quickly before I die of boredom.
This entry will close out the period from October 9th, 2004, until middish/lateish September, 2005.
I will call this period The Wasted Year for reasons that are probably already evident to some of you, and which will become evident to the rest of you.
If you don't die of boredom yourselves before I finally get to the fucking point.
So, where was I?
Oh yes, I was dead. I died on October 9th of last year. I'd call my death a metaphor. Some may call it an exaggeration. Others may call it whiny crybaby drivel. But whatever you call it, it's all the same thing.
When I found out that she had left, I was devastated. Obliterated. I'd waited 39 years to meet someone that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but I fought it and denied it and ignored it until that veeeeeeeery moment when I couldn't deny or fight or ignore it any longer. That very moment when I brilliantly figured out that I'll probably only meet the love of my life but once in my life so I should probably stop being so fucking scared and just take a fucking chance for once. So, I decided to take that chance, and I was too late. She was gone. And every last bit of anything and everything that she'd inadvertently reawakened inside me died.
(I have this yummy beer I'm drinking to thank for that last paragraph. I'll probably read it tomorrow and delete it.)
You know what really pisses me off about the past year?
There was a girl. A girl that was everything I ever wanted. In a companion. In a girlfriend. Maybe even in a wife. She was everything I ever wanted except for one thing. She wasn't the one I was in love with. I tried so hard, I tried for so long, to divert my attention toward her, but it seemed like the harder I tried the more resistance I met. And, and this is what really pisses me off, all of that resistance was coming from inside me. My own heart betrayed me on a daily basis. Every minute, every fucking second, my heart waged war against me.
I could spend the rest of my life telling MixedSignalGirl how sorry I am that I didn't love her. I probably will spend the rest of my life at least thinking about what a colossal failure I was when it came to her.
I was supposed to be her hero, and instead I was the dragon and the black knight all rolled up into one.
Almost an entire year. Wasted on a dream that I never wanted to have in the first place. Almost an entire year, searching for answers to the questions I was afraid to even ask. Almost an entire year, hurting someone that truly cared about me while I longed for something that was simply not meant to be. Almost an entire year, wasted.
I think I was supposed to make a point here. Why has it been so hard for me to write this entry? To close out this chapter of my life?
For a while, I thought that perhaps some hidden part of me was actually still clinging to hope.
For a while, I thought that perhaps some small part of me was still waiting for some answers. For some closure.
What's been holding me back from writing this entry, what's been holding me back from closing out that period of my life when all I did was mourn and hurt and miss and long, what's been holding me back is that...
...I died, and whatever it was that arose from death wasn't me anymore. It was something that only existed to feel pain. If I let the pain go away, there will be nothing left, and I'll have to once again start over.
So that's one reason. The other is...
...The last time I had to start over, it wasn't a choice. Oh, I thought it was a choice for a while. I thought I could control my own emotions and my own destiny and my own happiness. But I was either lying to myself or fooling myself. Probably both. There was no choice in the matter. At the moment that I first looked into her sparkling eyes, the number of paths available to my heart dwindled to one. I would love her.
But this time, this time it is a conscious decision on my part. The things that I've finally done and finally found to stop the flood of pain - I could switch them off in an instant.
It's ironic really. This 'blog is to blame for a lot of the problems I've had. If I'd been able to restrain my writings way back in the Summer of 2004, things might be a lot different for me now. The irony is that it's this 'blog that has enabled me to be sitting here writing this entry.
There's this one girl. A regular reader of mine. She is the one that pointed out to me that the pain was killing me all over again. She's the one that suggested that I had to try something different. Instead of trying to deal with the pain, she asked, why not try bottling it up?
And then there was this other girl. My kindred spirit. A series of coincidences led me to her, and she has given me what nobody else has been able to give. Understanding. Not judgment. Not argument. Not even pity. Simple understanding, from someone going through the same thing I'd been going through.
I don't know which girl deserves the most credit for curing me. I suppose they're equally responsible. On the Internet, everybody is secretive, but these two girls have shown me trust and understanding that I never could have found anywhere else - not even from my family and my closest friends. I've already said this, to each of them, many times, but I feel compelled to say it here:
To T and to N, what you have given me can never ever ever be repaid, but I vow to do the best that I can, for as long as it takes, to repay it anyway. You have helped me to get my life back, and I seriously didn't think it was possible.Anyway, where was I?
Oh yeah, the choice thingy. This time, ending this era, this wasted year, this pain-filled period, this time it's a choice. And with this choice comes responsibility. What if I'm fooling myself once again? What if suppressing these emotions and getting understanding isn't enough? This hasn't been tested, after all. I will be tested again. Eventually.
I sit here right now, and I know that I'm not ready to be tested. How can I truly consider myself healed, how can I honestly feel like I'm ready to close out this past year, when I know that all of that pain is still there inside me, building up pressure, ready to explode the next time she walks into my life?
I dunno. It just feels like I should close it out, this past year. Even if I'm not ready to be tested, everything else has changed over the last few weeks. I was in pain every day. Every single fucking day, I missed her. And now I don't. Even if it doesn't last, even if this turns out to be yet another false sunrise, and even if the darkness returns, this is still the end of an era.
I wasted a year, missing her. But I no longer fear spending the rest of my life missing her. I know that I can feel better, because I feel better right now. If I, reborn into pain, can still manage to live for a few weeks without that pain, then anything is possible.
This leopard can change its spots.
This scorpion can change its wicked ways.
This once broken man can have a life worth living.
And now I've got to go out onto my deck and finish this beer, to complete my little stupid tradition.
I always wanted us to go, but she kept putting it off. "One of these days," she'd always say. She was never much of an outdoorsy person.
Well, today I realized that there was no point in waiting for that magical day any longer. We weren't going to be going anywhere anymore.
So I went to the damn place by myself.
Going with a broken toe? Maybe not so brilliant. But I had a fucking point to make.
Since I'd never been there before, I just parked at the first parking lot I saw. How was I supposed to know that there was a real visitor area just down the road? Anyway, here's the view from where I parked.
For some reason when I got here I had to pee.
Looking up at the old bridge. I think they're talking about making this a pedestrian walkway, but it may be a completly different bridge for all I know.
My cellphone camera couldn't handle the contrast apparently.
I was surprised, for some reason, to see sand on the river's bank.
Waaaay over there is Kentucky.
At one point I found that I'd left the beaten path, so I beat my own.
These rocks were pretty cool. I wish my toe had allowed pain-free jumping around on them.
Just a bunch of logs that the river has deposited over the years.
The tree was pretty much growing out of solid rock.
A view back toward the bridge from the real visitor center.
After I left the park, I went over to The Pub and had a Newcastle (1704) and then a Young's Double Chocolate Stout (243) with my lunch.
That Young's is a beautiful beer in draft form. Yummy.
Hmmm, I would have sworn that I started typing this before I went out earlier, but it's not here so I'll start over. Strange.
All day yesterday I tried to make up my mind what I'd do that night. The only thing that I knew for sure what that I didn't feel like going back to Rich O's.
I toyed with the idea of making a little circuit of the four brewpubs in Louisville. I thought about going to Jeffersonville and hanging out with my cousin. I even thought about just staying home and catching up on the television that's been tivoed over the last couple of weeks.
In the end, I went over to Fourth Street Live, which is part of Louisville's downtown revitalization vision. I kind of like it there. It makes me feel like a tourist. Like I'm on vacation or something.
So they were having this OktoberFest thingy, which in Louisville at Fourth Street Live, means that they ID you when you enter the block, and they have booths with BudMillerCoors beers in the middle of the street.
I wandered up and down the block a couple of times, looking to see if there was anyone I knew. I seemed to remember RealTrainGirl talking about OktoberFest recently. I don't think this is what she was talking about, but I figured that it would be a nice surprise to run into them.
I ended up at this place called The Pub. They have the best beer selection at Fourth Street Live. I ordered myself a Newcastle (1684).
While I was drinking my beer, I sent out a couple text messages, and I looked around the place to check out the local talent, as they say. There was one girl that sort of looked familiar, and she caught me looking at her and smiled. Yikes.
After about 15 minutes the girl started inviting me over to join her and her friends on their side of the bar. I declined politely because (a) Her friends were two guys and I figured that at least one of them was probably her boyfriend (maybe both of them from the dirty looks they were giving me), and (b) I'd texted MixedSignalGirl and was hoping that she'd show up, and (c) Normal girls do not invite me to join them in bars. I did not want to wake up in a tub of ice missing a kidney.
Seriously, what is it about women and their radar for when a man is vulnerable?
Anyway, after my Newcastle I had a new beer for me:
(draft) A wonderful beer. Intensity everywhere from the aroma toAt one point KidneyGirl and her two guy friends were joined by two other girls - the actual girlfriends of the guys from the looks of things. This left KidneyGirl alone, and it left me with only two reasons to not join them. It was probably too late by then anyway.
the flavor to the finish. Dark chocolate and quite a lot of roasted malt. A sweet burning finish that made me want another sip right away.
I had another of the Rasputins (40).
At one point I got a call from RealTrainGirl. There weren't at Fourth Street Live, but they'd be at Rich O's later. She and GreenBeerDude were going to "show me something." Yikes!
I hadn't heard from MixedSignalGirl since the early evening, so I figured that she wasn't coming. I shot off a message telling her where I'd be, and that I wanted to talk to her, then I drove back to Indiana and to Rich O's.
When I got there the usual assortment of idiots was in the living room area. I stood at the bar, ordered a half-pint of Guinness (871) and talked to Bubbles for a while until RealTrainGirl, GreenBeerDude, and MisunderstoodGirl arrived.
Here's what they had to show me:
Matching tatoos of what looked like a logo for a pizza place or something. I'm just guessing here, but there was probably alcohol involved in their decision to have them done.
So we just hung out for a while. RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude were quite animated, probably from the pain or something. MisunderstoodGirl was busily plotting revenge on the world or something, so she didn't say much.
It was a nice end to the weekend festivities, and it took my mind off MixedSignalGirl, who I still haven't heard from as I type this entry.
Why? Why would someone do this to me?
It's just so unfair!
Somebody erased what I'd written on the board at Rich O's and rewrote it!
*breathes into paper bag*
Okay, so maybe I forgot to write how many ounces it was. Maybe I wrote a little small. Maybe I got the price wrong. Maybe my writing looked left-handed (inside joke ha-ha Hi M!) but c'mon! What I'd written was a zillion times better than what had been there, which was absolutely fucking nothing.
*tries to slash wrists with keys*
If I hadn't noticed the Smithwick's tap behind the bar, and written on the board, the place might not have sold any Smithwick's all weekend.
How would you have liked that, Roger? Your precious Smithwick's just sitting in the keg, going all stale and shit.
Everyone I asked, of course, denied erasing my legacy from the board, but there was one guy that got so flustered that he spilled an entire thing of straws all over the floor! Clearly there was a guilty conscience at work.
I KNOW YOU DID IT!
But I still don't understand why.
Oh BartenderDude, why hast thou forsaken me?*grins in an evil manner*
They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. My revenge will be frigid. A veritable iceberg of revenge. You just wait.
*begins plotting revenge*
This entry is late because I had to work all day. It sucked, but it doesn't happen very often that I have to work on a Sunday, so I guess I'll live with it.
The entry is boring because all of the passion has either been sucked out of me or bottled up inside me. I'm not really sure which is the case, and it probably doesn't matter very much at the moment. The end-result is the same - a boring entry.
You have been warned. I suggest that, instead of bothering with this entry, you go read PassionateKisses instead. She's funny as fuck.
I feel like a visual is needed here.
Last night, when I got to Rich O's, I was sitting in the chair, which we all call the throne. NotGeorge was on my right, and WomanRepellant was on my left, and there were a couple of other guys that I don't know all that were sitting around as well.
I had myself a Delirium Tremens (357), and the group of us bullshitted about various fluff. I was already feeling a little bit claustrophobic because WomanRepellant was sitting just about as closely to me as he could while still maintaining some ass-sofa contact. I have no idea what that was all about.
To my immediate right is the kiddie table. This dude comes up and grabs a chair from the kiddie table and turns it towards our group so he can talk with us. Mainly he was just talking with WomanRepellant.
So I found myself stuck in the middle of a conversation between two people who were way into my personal comfort zone. I put up with this for about 10 seconds, but that was all I could stand. I grabbed my shit and went and sat at the end of the bar next to the idiots that had been there Wednesday.
I ordered one of these:
Upland Wheat (3)
(draft) Very fizzy. Too damn fizzy. There was too much citrus and it was a little sour tasting. I didn't care for it at all.To wash the taste of that crap out of my mouth I ordered a Spezial (740) - a new keg since I'd blown the one on Friday.
At one point WomanRepellant came up and stood at the bar. He'd apparently gotten sick of all the football talk that was going on, and he knew that football was the last thing I'd want to talk about. So we talked for a while about anything but football.
Next I had a Weihenstephaner Dunkel (140).
At one point I returned from taking a piss and my seat had been taken. So I grabbed my shit again and moved over to the other end of the bar since the idiots from Wednesday had left.
At about this time I noticed that there was a Smithwick's handle attached to one of the taps behind the bar. After confirming that they did indeed have Smithwick's on tap I found some chalk and went out and wrote it on the board.
So finally, I've been able to leave my mark in this world. I've always wondered what form it would take.
Once my Weihenstephaner was gone I ordered a Smithwick's (500).
I guess that's about it. I had a fairly enjoyable night, probably because I was irritated for having to pick up my shit and move not just once but twice. Irritated is close to being an actual feeling, and feelings have been hard to come by lately.
As long as I'm trying to break my own record for the most boring entry ever poste