I did some things. I saw some people, drank some beer, ate some food, took a nap, saw some more people, and drank some more beer.

But it was all, just, irrelevant. Completely out of context with my life. Just tiny little inconsequential things, keeping the clock company as it ticks and ticks and ticks.

Meanwhile, I'm starting to get a little excited. I definitely need to stop that feeling. For excitement only leads to disappointment. Still, both of those things are at least relevant.

I'm in such a good mood. That's relevant, too.

Hot.

European.

Lesbians.

Every second. Every minute. Every hour and day and month and year. Every life. They happen exactly one time. You only get one shot.

We all know this. Awareness of this simple fact is always there, in our minds. At varying levels.

Sometimes this awareness lies buried below the mundane minutiae of living. Sometimes it's pushed aside as we play things safe. Sometimes, sometimes it's the most obvious and obnoxious thing in our lives, and it consumes our every thought and word and action.

There are so many things that I've missed. Opportunities that I've squandered. Chances that I've not taken. Feelings that I've denied. Hints that I've ignored.

Gone, forever. All of them. Time lost to its own passage.

Not again, I tell myself.

I'll take that chance, I promise myself.

We'll see, I suppose.

It's all coming together. Everything that I ever wanted and dreaded and wished for and needed and craved and feared - it's all going to happen. There will come a time when I'll have to either act, or not. Say something, or not. Do something, or not.

And that second, when I have to decide, when I'm once again given an opportunity to take that chance that I haven't taken, so many times, that second will pass quickly into the past with all its brethren.

That moment in time will happen once, and then it will be gone forever.

I wonder what I'll do, during that precious second.

I totally forgot to mention that I've booked my next trip to Las Vegas. After Thanksgiving I'll be there for a week, for the same conference I attend every year. It's always been at The Rio, but now they're moving it to The MGM Grand. This is probably a good thing, especially since The Tilted Kilt will surely be gone from The Rio by then, but it will still feel pretty weird. I think I'm actually feeling a little ambivalent about the whole trip.

I wonder if I should try to call StupidGirl. I guess I've got almost three months to decide.

---

I thought I'd have more to write, but I guess not. Except that women are strange. And everybody already knows that.

I suppose that the implications of this are slowly creeping their way into my head. This would explain my urge to run, hard and fast and far away. This would also explain my urge to sing and dance and shout with joy.

The thing is, I don't think I'm really allowed to be happy about this news. It's not a happy turn of events, for anyone except me, maybe. And, let's face it, I don't matter even a tiny bit. Especially as far as this is concerned.

The other thing is, I don't think I'm supposed to be sad about this either. I mean, a normal person would be selflessly and empathetically sad, but I never claimed to be normal. Especially as far as this is concerned. So if I'm sad then that sadness is a lie at some level. And I don't want to lie. Not about this. It's too important.

---

Like most people who've had their faith shaken, I often find myself looking for a miracle, to restore that faith. Unlike most people, however, I get my miracles. And I'm overjoyed, for a week or so. And I smile, for a month or two. But then, it fades. And then, I look for the next miracle. Because it's never enough.

The next miracle is coming. I know it's coming.

Maybe it will come tonight.

I hope so.

---

When it finally happens, I'll probably just do what I always do. Wait and see, bide my time, until it's too late. That's at least familiar to me, mundane even.

I would be a terrible poker player. I'd never raise, and I'd never fold my hand. I'd do nothing but call and call and call and call. And then eventually I'd go bust, and I'd be shocked and outraged at the horrible luck I'd encountered.

---

I'm not particularly afraid anymore. I'm not sure what the word to describe my state might be. It would be a word that meant I'm eternally grateful for what I have, even though I continue to want more. It would be a word that meant I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth, because I fear it might bite me. It would be a word that meant I will take my medicine, even though it tastes like shit, because I know it will make me all better.

Such a word exists, I'm sure. But I can't think of it right now.

---

You ever wait for something for so long that the waiting becomes a part of who you are?

Well, I have.

And then, when the wait was finally over, you didn't quite feel like yourself anymore?

Well, I have.

---

It just struck me.

I've been using the word wait instead of the word wish.

That's pretty fucking relevant, right there.

Stupid though, because I know the difference between the two, and still I chose the former.

I wonder when I shifted from wishing to waiting. Probably in May. May was a great month.

---

I wonder how long I can hold my breath.

It was a quick after-work trip to Rich O's today. Mainly because Monday nights are my pizza nights. Plus, sometimes they have beer there. Or so I've heard.

I got there at 5:30 or so. I checked the beer board, and saw that Marzen was all gone. So that sucked. But there were still four smoked beers on tap, so I figured that I probably wouldn't die of thirst.

At first, I sat at the bar because a group of weirdoes was infesting the living room area. I tried to remember if I liked Spezial or Schlenkerla Weizen better, but I couldn't decide. So I attempted, for a third time, to have a glass of the new NABC smoked beer. This time I managed to swallow three times before killing myself seemed preferable to swallowing again.

I hate that I don't like that beer. I mean, I like rye beer, and I like smoked beer. But combine the two? No, thank you. It still sounds good on paper though.

What I ended up having was a Schlenkerla Urbock (67). A little stronger than the Marzen I'd been hoping for, but I figured that I needed something stronger to wash my mouth out after what I'd just tried. The Urbock was quite yummy, and it was just what I needed.

At about the time my beer arrived, TremensGirl and IForgetHisNameDude came in. The weirdoes were still in the living room area, so they sat at the kiddie table. Then the weirdoes all left, and I moved to the throne. TremensGirl and IForgetHisNameDude stayed at the kiddie table and talked. Probably about football.

After a half-hour or so, during which I ordered a pizza and finished my beer, I got up and went back to the bar to pay my tab. I'd been out of my seat for less than a second when TremensGirl and IForgetHisNameDude zoomed from the kiddie table to the loveseat. I don't think that the cushion on the throne had even had time to lose the impression left upon it by my ass.

Clearly, they were waiting for me to leave the area. Clearly, to them, I was a weirdo! And they'd avoided sitting with me just as I'd, not an hour earlier, avoided sitting with the weirdoes who'd been there when I came in.

So after I'd paid my tab and picked up my pizza, I threw a big turd in their fan. I went and sat down on the sofa and *gasp* started talking to them.

Oh, the horror!

Of course they denied that their sudden relocation had anything to do with me. But I knew better. I clearly and distinctly heard the sonic boom that they created when they moved from the kiddie table to the loveseat.

This is another reason that I am the way that I am.

I thought briefly about fucking with them some more, by staying and eating my pizza and ordering another beer and *gasp* talking to them some more. But I didn't because I'm pretty poor this week.

Then, when I got home, I saw that my pepperoni and sausage pizza was instead an artichoke pizza. So I didn't eat any of it, and now I'll probably starve to death. But at least I won't die of thirst.

Dammit!

There's a fucking corn maze less than a mile from my house!

And here I am, fresh out of friends to go to the corn maze with me.

I've never been to a corn maze. I bet it would be cool. And probably scary if we did it at night.

Waaaaaaah!

My weekend started out nicely enough, Friday after work, when HatGirl's dog bit me. And it was one of the nice dogs. Okay, I guess they're all nice dogs, but two of them are regular nice and the other is super-spazzoid nice to the point of being mean.

It was one of the regular nice dogs that bit me. Didn't break the skin though, it just bruised my palm.

Anyway, then I went home and took a nap. I didn't set my alarm because I wasn't really planning to go out. I just figured that if I woke up in time, I'd go out, and if not, I wouldn't. But I did wake up, and while I was getting dressed and stuff TremensGirl texted me to let me know that the requisite band of Friday weirdoes had just left Rich O's.

That was pretty good timing, I think.

I went to Rich O's and had a couple Schlenkerla Marzens (1249) and talked to TremensGirl and MusicalYuppieDude until they started kicking everyone out. Then I came home and sat on my swing and had another Marzen (1266) and drunk-emailed NotHideousGirl.

So that was Friday.

On Saturday, I spent an hour or so out working on my Monte Carlo. I'd bought a new power window switch for the driver's door (the thingy on the old one had snapped off) and so I took my door apart, put the new switch in, and put the door back together. Imagine my dismay when, upon testing the new switch, I found that it didn't work for shit. It wouldn't control the driver's window at all, and it would only open the passenger's window but not close it.

So that sucked.

What sucked even more was that, when I started taking my door back apart to, I dunno, check the electrical connection or something, the entire new switch assembly exploded into about a dozen pieces of deadly shrapnel.

I spent the bulk of my Saturday, after that, either shooting pool downstairs or watching the rest of my Lost season two DVDs. I was going to take a nap but, as usual, my cats started fighting so I couldn't sleep.

Then, at 6:30 or so, I went over to this O'Sheas place in Louisville to meet up with my sisters and their families. Later, we were all going to a tribute gig being put on by my nephew's friends. The O'Sheas part was just to have a couple beers and eat something.

I had a couple small classes of Newcastle (7439) and about three bites of some disgusting chicken tenders that were about 90% breading. Then, we all went over to this Tailgater's place to listen to Cory's friends play and sing. They're all really talented. At Tailgater's, I was very pleasantly surprised to see BBC Nut Brown Ale on tap, so I had three small glasses of that (100). It was yummy and malty, just like I remembered it.

Once I got bored, I came home and sat on my swing and had a Marzen (1283) and drunk-texted TremensGirl for a while. Oh yeah, I drunk-emailed StalkerGirl too.

I'm in a better mood now. Not that it was a great feat or anything, as there was nowhere to go except up. But still, it's something.

Today I was treated like shit. By someone who is, ostensibly at least, a friend of mine. I may have deserved it. I almost always deserve it.

And you know what?

It was okay.

I got over it.

Also, maybe to make up for being treated like shit, I made a brand-new friend today. Here's a picture:

This is Dilly. He's an Armadillo. I never saw him before today. He stands on a shelf at Rich O's, and he moves his head up and down and side to side, following the whim of the air currents in the room.

He's fucking awesome, and I may steal him.

Also, I'm feeding these dogs while my friend is on vacation. One of the dogs is a major pain in the ass. It won't let me even think about petting either of the other dogs. If I try, it starts growling and biting. It's an asshole.

Also, my friend's cat is still afraid of me. But for the last two days I've given it kitty treats, and it's at least eating them. After I've left the room, of course. Maybe, in a zillion years or so, I'll be able to actually pet that cat. This has become my new goal in life.

Also, I'm pretty sure that, after a week of taking care of this 8,000,000 gallon aquarium with its $8,000,000 worth of exotic fish, I'll qualify for a commercial pilot's license. That will be cool, I think. Chicks dig pilots.

Also, I really need to take a break for lunch tomorrow. I hope I can spare the time away from work. I want to see BikerGirl and NotHideousGirl. And I really should talk to NotHideousGirl before it's too late to talk. If it's not too late already.

Also, they're having a sex clinic or something across the street from my work tomorrow. I don't know much more than that, but the information is here.

I guess that's it.