The following people forgot my birthday, and now I'm devastated, and I fucking better get a hug to make up for it:

HatGirl

The following people ignored my birthday, even after a reminder, and now I'm devastated, and I fucking wish things were different between us:

LaptopGirl

Neither of these lists should be considered all-inclusive, except maybe the second list, because I don't think I reminded anyone else.

This damn flu has taken things to a very personal level, now. Twice.

The first time was Friday night, when LaptopGirl invited me to Rich O's and I had to decline. Yes, that sucked giant donkey dicks. First time in a million asstillion years that LaptopGirl has invited me to Rich O's, and I had to decline. Woe is me, indeed.

The second time this fucking flu got personal was about an hour ago. I'd forced myself into going to Rich O's, because I'm a stubborn asshole and also because it's Pizza Night. I saw, to my great surprise, that NABC Cone Smoker was back on tap.

Yay! My first beer in a week was going to be one of my all-time favorites!

But not so fast there, Speedy. The Cone Smoker (3177) tasted like shit. Not because there was anything wrong with it, but instead because there's something wrong with me. This damn flu has wreaked havoc on my taste buds. And so now even one of my favorite beers is unenjoyable.

And then my pizza tasted like crap, but I was expecting it by that point. Everything has tasted like crap since last Tuesday. I keep feeling like there's some magical combination of herbs and spices that will wake my mouth back up, and make things taste good again, but I just haven't found it yet.

I've been given the green light to return to work tomorrow, at least for a while. I've been sleeping between 18 and 22 hours a day for a week, and so I don't know if I'll be able to stay up long enough to put in a full day of work, but I'll give it a shot.

So, I'm sick again.

That's my excuse. It's weird. It's almost like there's something wrong with it being 70 degrees one day, and then being 9 degrees a few days later. It's like the human body doesn't like that or something. At least my human body doesn't like it.

My body is, apparently, all pussy.

I've begun to doubt that I will ever feel any better. This has been dragging on for 48 hours. Usually I feel better by this time, but today I actually feel worse than I did before. I was thinking about getting a ride to the hospital or something, but I fear that my sister would take one look at me and take me to the funeral home instead. Cut out the middleman and all that.

Anyway, that's what's been up with me. Happy Valentine's Day, if you're into that sort of thing.

For the most part, I'm fine now. More than fine, actually. Good, even.

I haven't moved very far from the edge of this abyss, but that's okay, because I like it here. I may just build myself a cabin and retire here, I like it so much.

I'm like a mountain goat or something. Jumping around this precipice like gravity doesn't apply to me. Like I've learned nothing from the slips of the past.

But sometimes, I do worry a little bit. I think that's only natural. But I don't worry enough to make me step away from this edge. I like it here too much. The view here is really beautiful. It's a goddamn natural wonder, that's what it is.

---

I don't understand why people feel the need to meddle. Always trying to push us together or trying to pull us apart. Why not just let us be? Why not let us make our own mistakes and find our own solutions?

---

I could reach out and find nothing 99% of the time. I could do that forever. Odds are that I will do that forever. But it's my goddamn life, and maybe that's my choice. My life does not need fixing, because it's no longer broken. I'm no longer broken. And all it took for me to heal was to learn to love the pain.

So what if I keep reaching for that same cloud? Someday, I might just grab hold of something solid. Wouldn't that be something?

---

I've written before about how my wants vary. Usually, a particular want will get stuck in my head for a few hours, maybe a day, and then my mind will move on to something else. Some other want. But, this time, I've had the same want rattling around in my head for five days. I'm not sure that this one is going to go away anytime soon. Or ever.

I'm not going to write about what I want. The right person could ask the right question, someday, and I want my answer to be a surprise.

Well, the snowstorm was a dud. Despite some promise early in the evening, it petered out fairly quickly. I'm looking at two inches where I'd been expecting up to ten inches. So I can empathize with the ex-girlfriends of this one fucker at Rich O's.

I have high hopes for the coming ice storm, though.

---

The other night I saw someone reaching out to another person. I watched her reach out, and I watched her get absolutely nothing in response. I can certainly empathize with that, because sometimes it seems like all I do is reach out to find nothing.

Now, to be fair, every now and then people will reach out to me, and I'll either slap their hand away or squeeze it gently then move it aside - it depends on my mood and on who is doing the reaching. Sometimes, I do that. Maybe people think I'm a dick because of it, but I know the truth. I'm just trying to keep both of my hands free, in case they're ever really needed.

---

I'm really excited about this Jumper movie that's coming out. It's one of my favorite books. I know that movies are almost never as good as the books they're based on, but I have a good feeling about this particular movie. Also, I wish I could jump around from place to place like that. It would be cool.

That same guy wrote another book I really like. It's called Wildside. I think that would make a good movie, too.

This is just some crap I wrote tonight at Sluttopia. I'd had this great idea to write some moving and uplifting entries, but then, on the way there, I was reminded of three things. Two things that pissed me off, and another that caused me great concern.

Anyway, here's what I came up with. In case you can't tell, I was in a bad mood by the time I got to Sluttopia.

---

I thought it was a simple request, and I thought I'd asked it clearly. But, maybe not. So I'll ask again.

Please. Stop. Fucking. Interfering. With. My. Personal. Life.

There.

I don't know how I can make myself any more clear. Maybe if I throw in the word fucking a few more times.

Please. Fucking. Stop. Fucking. Interfering. With. My. Fucking. Personal. Fucking. Life.

If this simple request of mine continues to be ignored, I think that the circumstances will pretty much force me to reassess some friendships. And I don't want to do that. It would suck.

These latest instances of meddling, while perhaps oriented toward a different goal, are no less dangerous, no less disruptive, and no less despised than that last round of meddling.

I am actually teetering on the edge right now, between frustration and outright anger. And I don't like myself when I'm angry.

I don't want to lose friends over this. I really don't. But I will lose friends, if that's what I'm driven to do. If that's the choice I'm forced to make, then there is no choice.

My priorities are clear.

To me at least.

Some other people think they know my priorities. They think that they know me, because they've talked to me and/or read my drivel.

But they don't know shit. They only see the surface, what I allow them to see.

They haven't seen with my eyes or listened with my ears or felt with my touch. They haven't lived in my world, every perception distorted and only then interpreted by the tangible and intangible senses that make me who I am. What I am. How I am.

Conspiratorial whispers and blatant attempts at manipulation - does that crap really work? I mean, besides with children and idiots? I am neither of those things.

---

Then, I stopped writing, because I was starting to feel mean. I started to write a different entry, something much less controversial and more irrelevant, but my mood was already shot to shit by then.

1. Get up at 6:00.
2. There is no step 2.

Dedicated stalkers readers may recall that I was supposed to have a date tonight. ArtGirl and I were supposed to go to see some band at some place.

Well, that didn't happen. The band wasn't going to start until midnight, and that was way too late for me, since I have to work in the morning. Plus, I never could get ahold of ArtGirl.

---

Tonight, I went to Rich O's and I held my breath for three hours. Then, at about 10:00, I breathed sweet refreshing air for about ten seconds. Then, I held my breath again.

For what it's worth, I will not apologize for things I cannot change. I've already done enough of that, and it's never done anyone a bit of good.

---

So my mood held fairly steady at content for most of the night. Maybe, there at the end, it might have jumped up a notch. Maybe.

But there was a brief period earlier when, for about ten seconds, I was filled with joy. That struck me as patently unfair, that something so trivial could affect me that much. I mean, I'm getting way more than I'm giving. The same thing happened last night. I got to be deliriously happy, and the best anyone else got was to have to put up with me.

It just doesn't seem right. I've felt guilty about it, a lot, over the past twenty-four hours or so.

You know what it's like?

It's like I'm a closeted gay guy in a men's locker room. Or a pedophile working as a janitor at an elementary school.

I'm enjoying my life way too much, and nobody is the wiser. I feel like I'm taking advantage of things. Taking too much advantage.

I do not like it, and I do feel guilty about it. But I will not apologize for things I cannot change.

Early Friday evening I was, as is quite often the case lately, trying to convince myself to do something besides go to Rich O's. I was toying with the idea of maybe going to this Sergio's place I've heard about. I was thinking about maybe going down to our local casino on the river. I even thought about just staying home and watching some movies.

It's just that sometimes I don't get the point of that place, and I felt like I needed a break. Even if it's just to prove to myself that I can take that break. Plus, I'm on-call this week, and that always sucks the life force right out of me.

But then HatGirl texted me that she was on her way to Rich O's, so what little willpower I might have possessed evaporated like spit on a summer sidewalk.

I had to park on the far side of Mars. This was a bad sign. Another bad sign was that there was an unlikely abundance of huge 4WD trucks in the Rich O's lot, all with those lift kit things that make you need a ladder to get into them. It was like Rich O's had turned into a redneck bar. Or that there was a tiny-penis convention taking place. I wondered if they would try to block my entrance.

Inside, the place was beyond packed. I nodded and waved at several people who were sitting around the living room. MusicalYuppieDude, TremensGirl, PlantDude, PearlGirl, PearlGirl's hot friend, probably some other people.

HatGirl and LuckyFucker were sitting at the bar, the only two seats available in the place, so I went over and stood behind them.

HatGirl!

Yay!

After about a million years, two cool things happened. First, some chick left the bar, and I grabbed the seat, Second one of the bartenders caught a glimpse of me through the crowd and took my beer order.

After a bit longer, UPSDude left the bar, so I took my NABC Flat Tyre (463) and slid down closer to LuckyFucker and HatGirl.

After a bit longer, some strangers left the loveseat, and PlantDude left the throne, so we all moved down there.

The next couple of hours were quite pleasant, talking to HatGirl and LuckyFucker. He's finally going to make an honest woman out of her, or vice-versa. I'm happy for them, but I know that the world will mourn when HatGirl is officially and legally off the market.

By the time HatGirl and LuckyFucker left, I was on my third Flat Tyre (503), and I'd moved over to the kiddie table because HairDude had stolen the throne when I went to pee. That was okay, though, I'd been starting to feel a bit claustrophobic because of this one chick from the sofa.

So I was sitting at the kiddie table with TremensGirl. It was a strange conversation we were having. Like we were breaking up or something. But we weren't, I probably just felt primed for that activity because WeirdGirl and I had just broken up over the phone. Something about my priorities and hers not matching up often enough. Oh, well.

Anyway, then LaptopGirl came in and, after TremensGirl left, sat at the kiddie table with me. We proceeded to have a very nice conversation about all sorts of relevant stuff. I had a half-pint of the Flat Tyre (513) to close out the night.

Oh yeah. MusicalYuppieDude said that the band that ArtGirl and I are supposed to see tonight doesn't start until midnight. We'd been told before that they would start at 7:00 or 8:00. So I called ArtGirl to let her know, in case that would affect her plans. She hasn't called back. I'll call her this afternoon.

Oh yeah again. NotHideousGirl came in for a while. She missed HatGirl by about twenty minutes, and I bet she was disappointed by that. It was nice to see her.