I suppose this makes it official. I've lost my mind.

It started the second I woke up this morning. It continued throughout the day. Through taking a shower and shooting pool and reading and watching The Black Knight and emailing RockGirl and NotHideousGirl. It mercifully stopped during my nap, but now it's started up again.

I'm singing to my cat, Nugget.

And, as if that wasn't strange enough, I'm singing the same stupid verse over and over and over and over.

Lord, I was born a ramblin' man, Nugget,
Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can, Nugget.
And when it's time for leavin, I hope you'll understand, Nugget,
That I was born a ramblin' man, Nugget.

I was thinking this morning about what I might have said, back then, if I'd been asked. What I might say if I'm asked tomorrow, or next week, or next year.

Because it would be really important to say the right things, you know?

I'm not sure that the actual words would really matter all that much. Not as long as the meaning and the passion behind those words was readily apparent. The words wouldn't need to really mean anything. Like a fist pounding on a podium, the words would only serve to add emphasis to the underlying meaning.

But still, emphasis has its place, I suppose. So I was thinking about what I might have said, and what I still might have the chance to say someday.

I should think about it some more, because so far the meaning is all that I have. It's always been enough for me, but for her I'll probably need some emphasis.

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.

I was at Rich O's.

The place was much larger and more elaborate than in real life. I went to go to the men's room, and it was (a) huge, and (b) packed with people of all genders. I went over to a urinal and did my thing. While I was doing my thing a big giant fat dude stood at the urinal next to me and did his thing. Except he was so big and giant and fat that he was basically leaning against me and causing me to miss my urinal about half the time.

When I went up to the sink, there was a girl there that I was supposed to know. She clearly knew me, at least from the past. All I knew was that she (a) was hot, and (b) looked familiar. Even now, wide awake, I have the feeling that I should know who that girl was.

Anyway, she wanted me. She wanted me bad. But she was working at the door to the men's room, and she didn't have a break coming for at least an hour. So she flirted with me, and stroked me, and kissed me several times. I got a little hot and bothered, and I was going to splash some cold water on my face, but there was a little girl taking a bubble bath in the sink. The little girl saw my dilemma and scooped up some water from her bath into her hands. She then poured that water into my hands so I could splash my face. It was quite a touching gesture, and several people said, "Awwwwwww."

Then the hot girl had to go direct some people to the back of the men's room. It turned out that all the hubbub was because there was some cult guy in town, and he was getting a ceremonial bath in one of the back stalls. That's why they were letting everyone into the men's room, so they could see the cult guy.

Since the hot girl was busy all of a sudden, I decided to go back to my waiting beer. But first I wanted to show everyone a trick. At first I was going to walk through the closed door, because I can do that in my dreams, but they had the door propped open so the throng outside might catch a glimpse of the cult guy. So, instead of walking completely through the wooden door, I figured I'd just stick my hand through it. It would still be impressive, just not as impressive.

I stuck my hand through the door, almost up to the elbow, and everyone gasped. Then I tried to pull my hand back but GlassesGirl had grabbed it from the other side and I was stuck.

Then I woke up.

---

We were at a drive-in theater.

I don't know if it had been built on top of a volcano, or if it was a new volcano springing up. But, regardless, there was lava erupting from several holes in the ground. Everyone around me just kept watching the movie, so I decided to watch it too. Then this little girl, the same one who'd been taking a sink bath earlier, said she couldn't see the screen so I put her on my shoulders.

Then the big giant fat guy from the urinal tried to take the heavy cooler from the back of my truck. The exertion was too much for him, and he had a heart attack and died.

Then I woke up again.

Yesterday, after NotHideousGirl's ass finally got off work, I took her to buy a doghouse for her dog, Harry.

The place we went is this SuperPet Warehouse, or something like that, on State Street in New Albany. I used to go there to buy canned food for my own cats, but I haven't been there in a couple of years because they started having actual cats for sale and I couldn't stand the temptation.

So we went in yesterday, and of course I went straight to the big cage at the front of the store to look at and pet the kitties. There were three of them, and they were all adult cats. Not kittens. As in not so cute anymore. As in nobody will ever love them and take them home.

The poor things.

Well I somehow managed to leave the store sans three new kitties. All I bought was a foam bed thing for my own cats. I bought it mostly for its comedic potential - there's no way that any of my cats could ever fit into that thing. Maybe just their ass. When I set it out on the floor, Happy and Buddy spent about an hour smelling it. Once they'd decided that it wasn't edible, they left it alone.

Nugget, of course, was immediately terrified of that scary white thing so he hauled ass into the basement as soon as he saw it.

But I digress.

I wish I could honestly say that I don't have room for any more cats. But I can't. My house has plenty of room.

I wish I could honestly say that I can't afford any more cats. But I can't. I make good money, and I could afford it fairly easily.

So why didn't I buy those three cats yesterday, especially when it became clear that they were too old, and that, if I didn't take them home, then nobody ever would?

I don't have a good reason, so it must just be because I'm an asshole.

I just came in from sitting on my swing outside. I was going to sit out there until I managed to think of something entry-worthy, but it's a little too chilly, so I came back in.

---

At Rich O's today after work (Rogue Chocolate Stout (1826)) I had an idea. What if I took all of the penis-enlargement spam that I get and bought everything they offer?

A couple of inches from a special diet, four inches from pills, an additional 20% from some stretching gizmo. And so on. What if I could add them all up?

I bet that, six months and a couple of thousand dollars later, I could sit at Rich O's and drink beer all day, but I'd continue to get paid because my dick could still be sitting at my desk at work doing my job.

It would be win-win!

---

There's a new stray cat outside. It's a very light gray color. I have named it Ghost, in case I ever see it again.

---

WeirdGirl is being a little mean to me. But I guess that's better than being nice to me. Because nice would remind me of what I'm missing.

---

Not that it really bothers me.

It's kinda funny. Not too long ago I kept trying to convince myself that I was a normal happy person. That deception never worked. These days I catch myself trying to get in a bad mood, and that doesn't work either.

---

Today, for some reason, I thought about this one kid from my youth. Not a friend by any stretch of the imagination, just a kid who lived next to my cousins for a while. So we were kinda forced to play with him sometimes. He was a real dick. He's probably in jail or dead by now. Or he's a billionaire. Man, what a dick that guy was!

---

There's something that keeps becoming more of a possibility all the time. Something that I should really be more worried about than I am. But I'm not worried about it very much at all. This may end up biting me in the ass.

---

I can't believe it's 1:00 AM and I'm still up. This is pretty stupid. Especially since I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn again tomorrow. I'm giving NotHideousGirl rides to work as her car woes continue unabated. It's nice to feel useful though.

---

If you ever want to see something funny, go to Rich O's when Roger is there and say something about how 8664.org wants to tear down I-64 in Louisville.

---

I was watching Big Brother tonight (shut up, I like it) and I got to thinking about a Rich O's reality show in that same vein. I don't think I'd be the first regular evicted, but I bet I'd be in the first five. I know without a doubt who the first evictee would be. And I'm pretty sure I know who'd end up winning it all. At least I know who I'd vote for.

---

I'll be gone all next week. If it's anything like the last time I went to Philadelphia, I won't have any time for anything but work. So I might go as many as five days without posting anything. The world will probably keep turning without my input.

---

Now it's 1:18 AM and I'm still up. I am stupid. I think I'll go to bed as soon as I finish this Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (2085)

...and yay and yay and yay and yay and yay and yay!

Two wonderful things in as many days!

Problem is, now my smile may spread, out of control, and end up ripping my head apart. Like that one apparatus with the hot girl at the beginning of Saw.

I think I'll chance it.

*smile*

An unstated number of days ago, I heard something kinda disturbing. Nothing that affects me. Not directly anyway. But there will surely be an effect on one of my friends. And then there'll be a sort of a ricochet, and that's what will hit me. Right square in the nuts.

Ouch.

So I've got two choices.

One, I could say nothing to my friend. Hope that, when she inevitably finds out, that it won't be that big of a deal.

Two, I could tell her, and then try to steel myself for the backlash, but hope that my honesty garners me some tiny bit of respect. Some flimsy wall of protection.

Right. Like that would ever happen.

I think that I'll go with option one.

When in doubt, do nothing.

Man, I should put that on a t-shirt.

---

Now, I get to smile again. Probably for about a week, if the recent past is any useful indication. And I'm not sure if it is or not. It is, after all, recent. And what are a couple of months when compared to the years that preceded them?

So I've been happy for almost two months now. In a couple of days it will be exactly two months, as of this writing. For all that time, I've been happy, but I haven't always been smiling. Smiling takes something more than happiness, for me.

The nice thing about being happy is that it's such a short distance from there to an even better place. From happy to joyful is a distance measured in tiny things.

Well today, a teeny tiny thing happened. And joy washed over me. And I smiled. And I'll probably keep smiling.

For about a week.

Today, I was given a girl.

"She's all yours, Dave," this dude told me. "You can have her."

We'd both been interested in her, but now the dude was seeing someong else. So he gave her to me.

Pretty sweet gift, huh?

I can't wait to tell her. I think I'll have her wear a big bow, tied around her waist, and nothing else.

I don't know if this entry will go anywhere. Besides my drafts folder, I mean. Where it could sit until the end of time. This is just something I caught myself wondering about the other day.

I've mentioned before that my best friend growing up was Eric, and that Eric's parents own Polly's Freeze. I've also mentioned that my mom worked there, as did my aunt. I grew up 200 yards from the place. So it was maybe like a fourth home for me. After my own home, then my grandmother's, then Eric's, there was Polly's.

Anyway.

I remember back when we were kids. Eric and I would be walking or riding our bikes down some random road, and we'd come across a discarded plastic serving tray from Polly's. Sometimes we'd find these trays miles away from where they were supposed to be. Which was in the Please return trays here - Thanks bins scattered over the Polly's compound. We'd find them miles away because people are lazy and inconsiderate assholes.

Heh, I think it's funny that I used the word compound there.

So we'd come across these discarded trays, and Eric would invariably stop and pick it up so he could take it back to Polly's. "These things cost money," he'd always say. And I'd always think he was a dork, because it's impossible to look cool carrying an empty tray along the road. It was nearly impossible to look cool being around somebody who was carrying empty trays along the road, but I think I managed it okay.

Okay, now fast-forward thirty years or so.

I go to Polly's now, ostensibly as an adult. A lot has, of course, changed. But not enough to make the place any less of a pleasure. I order the same stuff that I used to order, except that milkshakes don't agree with me as much as they used to, so I get a Diet Coke sometimes with my double cheeseburger and fries. I try to sit at the table from which Eric and I would sit and look for pretty girls. Eric's parents are still there running the place. My mom and my aunt are long gone. The girls are still cute, but now they're all jailbait to me, and I find myself wondering what their mothers look like. And every now and then there'll be a dude working the counter. And that's just plain wrong.

Wrong, I tell you! Like a milkshake poured by a guy will taste anywhere near as sweet as one poured by a cute girl.

But I digress.

When I get my food at Polly's, the drink never comes with a lid. I always ask for one, because I'll be driving with my drink and I don't want to spill it. My food always comes with exactly one napkin. I always ask for an extra one, because I'm a slob. My food always comes with maybe a teaspoon of ketchup. I always ask for more ketchup, because I like ketchup with my fries.

The other day I had a late lunch at Polly's, and I asked for all three of these things. This special treatment, if you will. And for some reason I was reminded of Eric, carrying plastic trays along the road like a dork, simply because these things cost money.

And I got to thinking. Lids cost money. Napkins cost money. Ketchup costs money.

When I was a kid, I always used to think that Eric's family was rich. They certainly had more money than my own family ever did. But as I think about it now, I think that it was more just the fact that they got all of their money from Polly's Freeze during the six months each year they were open. Then all Winter they'd live on what they'd saved.

Not a bad gig, if you can get it, but they were not rich by any means. They worked hard for what they had, as did everyone. I'm sure they watched their spending even more than a lot of families did, because they always knew that they'd have to make their money last through the Winters.

So they wanted those trays returned.

And now, I have to wonder about that lid, and that extra napkin, and that extra ketchup. Those things don't cost me any extra, but they cost Eric's parents. By asking for those extra things, I'm essentially taking money from them.

By bringing those trays back to Polly's, Eric helped to pay for his own college education. By asking for a lid and an extra napkin and ketchup, I'm probably taking away from his inheritance. Now, because of my clumsy and slovenly and gluttonous ways, I'm probably denying his kids, and his sister's kids, and his brother's daughter, I'm probably denying them all the chance to live fulfilled lives. So, instead of being all they can be, they'll probably end up living in cardboard boxes in alleys, fighting rats for scraps of food.