This morning, at a meeting, they had breakfast for us. Not that it did me any good. I'd already had breakfast.

But it did provide a bit of comic relief, because everyone was eating strawberries with a knife and fork. One person started it, and before long everyone was doing the same weird thing.

It was a very Seinfeldian experience.

Eating strawberries with a knife and fork is just wrong. They should either be eaten with the fingers, or as I prefer it, smashed onto the belly of a beautiful woman and then licked off.

---

NotHideousGirl and I had lunch again today. I had a Newcastle and a half (6233) and a piece of fish. She had fries.

We've been working on a new code to use between us. Those things that she says all the time, she can just save her breath and just hold up one through five fingers. For example, one finger means that she's sleepy. If we ever progress beyond five common phrases, she'll have to switch to gang signs or something.

---

I completely forgot to give NotHideousGirl shit about her MySpace survey thingy. It's totally full of trick questions.

---

WeirdGirl has decided to give her ex-boyfriend another go. I wish them well, but I'm not particularly optimistic for them. I've heard too many bad stories about him.

Also, I guess now I get to start keeping track of the last time I got to have sex, and hope that the last time wasn't the last time.

---

The new big thing at work is scheduling meetings that include lunch. I've tried to tell these people that I have a standing hot date at lunch, but I don't think they care.

---

That's it for now.

Stolen from TuesdayPillow.

Seems pretty fucking arbitrary to me.

Today you reminded me of my place. Again.

You remind me of it every time we speak. Sometimes with subtlety, like today. Sometimes with near-honesty, like tonight. Sometimes with lies of omission. Sometimes with total silence.

You have quite a bag of tricks there, don't you?

It must be hard work, making sure that I always know my place. Making sure that I stay where I belong.

But see, the problem is, none of it is necessary. I know where I belong. Right where I am.

I wonder, are all these reminders really for me?

Sunday night:

Aecht Schlenkerla Helles Lagerbier (3)

(bottle) Golden color, minimal head. Aroma of stale hops. Flavor of a citrusy stale lager tamed just a bit by smoke. The flavor wasn't too bad, but the damn aroma was disgusting. I poured most of the bottle out.

Barley Island Dirty Helen Brown (22)

(draft) Dark copper, with huge head and good lacing. Malty flavor with caramel and toffee in there too. Mouthfeel a little thin, but a great-tasting beer. I will look for this again.

Today was pretty boring, as Mondays usually are. Had Lunch with NotHideousGirl and got to listen to some dude in a groovy shirt try valiantly and lamely to pick her up. Talked to WeirdGirl for a minute or two on the phone - she's still not feeling well. Worked on a bunch of disaster recovery plans for work. Talked to my sister Dina on the phone. Went to Rich O's. Had the aforementioned Dirty Helen beer. Bought a pizza. Came home. Watched 10 Things I Hate About You.

I continue to be in a strange mood. I feel like I'm being hit from all sides by things which I don't understand and for which I'm woefully unprepared. So I'm a little bit jumpy. On edge, as I said in my last entry. But not just about the timing thing. I'm on edge about everything. I kind of feel like I'm living a pre-apocalyptic phase of my life, and I need to do something to prevent something terrible from happening.

Weird, I know.

My estimate is thirty seconds. A friend of mine disagreed with that estimate. A few days at least, she said. But she doesn't know. She couldn't know. She hasn't seen, she hasn't heard, she hasn't felt or smelled the things I have.

Thirty seconds.

That's how long it would take. That's how much time I would have. Thirty seconds in which to say something or do something that could (re?)open that door. Maybe change everything for the better, for both of us.

The problem is, I don't know exactly when that narrow opportunity will present itself. I just know that it will. It's coming, sooner than later by my estimation. And, odds are, I won't be anywhere near where I'd need to be. Like right in front of her. That fact, of course, sucks.

Fuck, those thirty seconds could have come and gone while I was typing that last paragraph.

I'm not afraid to say or do whatever it takes. It's absolutely not a problem of fear. It's a problem of timing. Everything always boils down to timing. Too soon, and I'm an asshole. I'm every other guy on Earth, trying to take advantage of someone's sudden vulnerability.

Too late, and well, I'm too fucking late.

People tell me stuff. And when I say people I mean this one person. It's kind of a running and recurring theme of things that are wrong with me. A cacophony of criticism, if you will.

I don't say what's really on my mind. I don't say what I really want. I don't make myself vulnerable. I wait too long.

Maybe these are hints. I don't think so, though. I think that, at most, they're excuses. But exactly what they are is most definitely not relevant to this developing situation. To this looming opportunity.

I'm on edge. Waiting for those thirty seconds. Timing may prevent me from using this opportunity. But fear certainly will not. I will say what's really on my mind. I will say what I really want. I will make myself vulnerable.

I may end up waiting too long. But, if I do, it won't be by choice.

I must have spent ten minutes typing this entry.

I hope I'm not too late already.

I don't really feel like writing anything, but I guess I will or I'll be annoyed with myself.

This edition of Saturday Beer Report is a little different than others. This one is about Saturday afternoon. There will be nothing about Saturday night because I just stayed home.

Anyway, my first stop was Buffalo Wild Wings for Naked Tenders and Spicy Garlic sauce. I had a Newcastle (6003) of course, but there was something a little off about it. I think that place needs to clean their lines or something. There was a huge storm that tore through the area. Customers and employees were freaking out a little. But all that really happened was the lights flickered a few times. We all survived.

Next I went over to The Pub to see BikerGirl. I had a Newcastle (6023) there, and it was yummy as usual. Also yummy was BikerGirl, but she wasn't feeling well and she left as soon as she got off work, and some dude took over the bar. I spent quite a bit of time talking to this heart surgeon and this older couple about beer. I drew everyone maps to Rich O's. The heart surgeon guy wanted one for himself, and the older couple wanted one for their beer-snob son. I am the unofficial Rich O's ambassador to the world. I should get diplomatic immunity or something.

Next I went to Lucky Strike to see if this one cute-as-a-bug girl was working, but there was some dude instead. So I went to Hard Rock to see if CoolHairGirl was working, but the dude there said she'd called in sick. So I went down to Red Star to see if this one chick was working but it was, once again, some fucking dude. I had a Newcastle (6043) and contemplated the serious lack of female bartenders on Fourth Street.

Every time I go to Red Star they play this John Waite song that makes me miss a certain person, so I sent some emails to RockGirl complaining about my lonely life. I'd been thinking for a week that it was a Bryan Adams song, but it's John Waite who I hate. Hey, that rhymes.

I also tried a few times to call NotHideousGirl. I ended up leaving a message, asking if she wanted to go do karaoke later. Specifically, she would sing and I would listen.

On the way back to The Pub, I popped into Sully's, just to confirm that the bartender there was a dude too. At The Pub, I had yet another Newcastle (6063) and talked to the older couple some more. Then I came home and slept.

NotHideousGirl never did call me back about the karaoke. That's probably a good thing, as my mood has been quite strange for the past couple of days. So I stayed home and watched the American Pie movies after I woke up from my nap.

Pretty damn exciting.

Tonight, I kept having urges.

Almost every girl I talked to, I wanted to kiss for hours.

Almost every girl I talked to.

All but one, actually.

That is all.

My plan was brilliant in its simplicity. It would have been staggering in its effectiveness. If it had been effective at all.

Step One: Take a nap.

Step Two: Wake up refreshed.

Step Three: Go out and enjoy my Friday night.

But noooooooooooooooooooo!

At approximately T-Plus five minutes into Step One, my cat Buddy walked into the bedroom and loudly announced, "MEEEEEEOOOOORRRRROOOOWWWW!!!"

For those of you who don't have cats, and therefore don't understand their language, this translates as, "Hey you! I think I saw a lizard outside! Fetch!"

The sound of Buddy's wail cut right into my soul. It woke me up at the worst possible time. That few seconds when I was almost asleep, but not quite. And now my brain has been fooled into thinking I took a nap. My body is arguing vehemently with my brain, but my brain is being stubborn.

So tonight I get to go out and attempt to have an enjoyable Friday night even though I haven't slept since 11:30 last night.

And I bet there was no goddamn lizard, either.