So I chickened out. There was just no way that I could justify the risk versus the reward.

If HatGirl forgot my birthday I'd probably have been devastated and cried for a month. If she didn't forget my birthday, well then I'd have just been relieved.

So the risk of devastation was not worth the reward of relief.

I decided to fuck the risk. I called HatGirl and reminded her ass that tomorrow is my birthday before she'd have a chance to forget.

Then there was some phone juggling and I ended up having lunch with MixedSignalGirl. She's already having lunch with me Friday, so today was a big bonus for me.

Everything was nice and pleasant. Not a whole lot of tension between us anymore. I'd had a mild panic attack about ten minutes before she showed up, but I was fine after that.

Then EllaGirl decided to mess with us. She came over and, right in front of MixedSignalGirl, told me that she thought I'd left my hat in her apartment the other night.

Not cool.

This was, of course, utter bullshit. I only wear hats when I'm in disguise. So I sort of wondered out loud how many other guys it could belong to. Then EllaGirl stomped away.

EllaGirl deserved that for trying to stir up shit.

But MixedSignalGirl is a class act all the way. She didn't even bat an eye. She asked me if that was the famous EllaGirl, I said it was indeed, and that was it.

Oh yeah, during lunch I had a Newcastle (3304).

After MixedSignalGirl went back to work, I stayed and had a half-glass of Newcastle (3314) and talked to EllaGirl for a bit to see what her problem was. She acted like it was perfectly normal to go up and intrude like that. She said she was just being nosey, not possessive. I'm just glad that I wasn't on a first date with someone.

All this female interaction got me to missing BadPickleGirl, so I sent her an email of some cute animals. I'm not really expecting a response, but it would be a nice birthday present.

Today I watched a stupid movie called The Family Stone.

To successfully enjoy this movie, you'd have to do two things. First, you'd have to pretend that the characters aren't all whores and/or selfish pricks. Second, you'd have to pretend that Sarah Jessica Parker is about a gazillion times prettier than she really is.

I failed at both tasks.

For me, the only redeeming qualities about the movie were (a) that Rachel McAdams was in it, and (b) this one part where this one whore told a story about a guy that built a totem pole.

I didn't catch the first part of the totem pole story, but I got the impression that there was a guy who was sad. I think the words used to describe him were that there was a hole in his heart.

Or some drivel like that anyway.

So, to cheer him up, the town gave him a log. Not a big party. Not money. A big ass log.

But it was okay.

The guy spent like eight years carving that log into a totem pole. And I guess there was a big ceremony when the thing was raised. And it was beautiful. The town got a fancy new totem pole, and the guy got to fill that hole in his heart with something.

I thought it was a sweet story.

And now I want a log, so I can make a totem pole, so I can fill this fucking hole in my heart.

And I want the log for my birthday, which is in two days.

I fully expect to shut down in two days. If I do, then you people might not hear very much from me for a while. If I don't, well if I don't then I was wrong. About a lot of things. And I'll be okay. And I'll never mention this shutting down nonsense again.

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.

Flowery wallpaper.

Striped wallpaper.

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.

Anyway.

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.

Fuck!

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.

Tonight, it snowed. Not very much, but enough to scare the shit out of everyone except the most die-hard people. So Rich O's was pretty dead, and they started kicking people out very early.

It was a weird night. Ten minutes of interest, followed by two hours of boredom, then another ten minutes of interest, and another hour of boredom.

The interesting parts were provided by some drunk guy. I don't think I ever saw him before, but I guess he knew who I was. And apparently he didn't like the cut of my jib or something. He kept threatening to "knock my block off" - which was funny for the nostalgia brought on by that old-fashioned term at least as much as it was for the mental image of him actually trying. The dude could barely stand up.

Look, I'm sure he's a helluva nice guy. I'm sure he was just in a mood tonight. Live and let live, right?

My first beer was a bottle of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1690). It was yummy as always.

So I sat on the throne. For a while I talked to a guy who proclaimed himself to be The Asshole. Not just any asshole, mind you, but The Asshole. I told him that it was an honor to meet him.

Then this one PBD sat and talked with me for a while. He told me something that really disturbed me. I guess that there are people at Rich O's who think that the whole DaveFest thing was my idea. That I thought up the concept of the customer appreciation festivals, and that I nominated myself to be the first honoree.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. Ask Roger. It was his idea, and picking me for the thing was his idea too. It was a huge honor for me, and it bugs me that some people think that it was my idea all along.

I may have an ego on me, but not that much of an ego.

Anyway, after a while WomanRepellant came in and sat on the sofa. Almost immediately, that same drunk guy tried to pick a fight with WomanRepellant. I'd venture to say that he came a lot closer to succeeding than he had with me. It took two or three people to restrain the guy and drag him away.

Like I said, I'm sure he's a nice guy. He's just a really mean drunk I guess.

About five minutes later DrunkGuy came back in, again, and tried, again, to pick a fight with WomanRepellant. He was dragged away, again.

It was kind of weird. I'd spent the first part of the night thinking that I must be really special to have DrunkGuy hate me so much. But as it turned out I wasn't special at all. Oh well.

The rest of the night was calm and relaxing. I had another Weihenstephaner (1707) and then I came home at 10:00 when they started kicking people out.

I don't know why I ended up going to Rich O's last night. I mean, I've skipped the last two Fridays at least, and it hasn't killed me. It's been nice actually. Because I didn't have to worry about being too disappointed if certain people didn't show up.

I don't know why I ended up going last night, but I did. I remember dreading it, both during the drive, and when I was looking for a parking spot. I had to park on Mars, so that was a bad sign.

The place was crowded as fuck. It took me at least five minutes to walk the ten feet between the front door and the entrance to Rich O's proper. Then, when I finally got there, I was blocked by a solid wall of people. It was standing room only in there. Strangers all over the fucking place.

But wait!

My sister's husband Kenny was part of the solid wall of people! My sister Dina was there too! Yay!

They were, as it turned out, celebrating this one blonde chick's birthday.

Anyway, I'm rambling.

After a year or so, I made it through the throng to the bar and I ordered a Brownings Bourbon Imperial Stout (82). I also talked to GlassesGirl. I hadn't seen her in months, so that was nice. Dina and I stood around for a while until some dude left the kiddie table, then we sat there and talked. I decoded a couple of my recent blog entries for her, because I guess I confuse her sometimes.

After a while the strangers left the living room area, so Kenny and the rest of Dina's group took over that area. I eventually moved to the throne.

I ordered another Brownings (98) but I didn't quite finish it.

Oh yeah, there was a smoldering hot girl ordering a growler of Arrogant Bastard, and I went up and talked to her for a while.

She ended up taking a raincheck. Oh well.

After Dina and crew left I had a Diet Coke, then I went to White Castle and then came home.

I woke up at 4:00 this morning, very dehydrated.

I was just struck by a realization.

Clobbered actually.

By something that I already knew, at least on some level. Something that I knew in my head, but something that perhaps I didn't quite feel in my heart.

I live, it seems, for the confusion and the complications. They allow me to obsess over the what ifs and the how comes and the why nots and all those other questions that intrude into my life like cats' paws under a closed door.

I sit here in this chair, and I make excuses. I tell myself that things are complicated. I tell the world that I'm being selfless. That it's not fear holding me at bay, it's altruism.

I surround myself in fog and mystery, because I do not want to see. The darkness comforts me, because I know what the light could reveal. I fear the light.

I live this shell of a life chasing answers that can never be caught. Because I never really ask the damn questions. Instead, instead I theorize and I hypothesize. I conjecture and I postulate and I assume and I interpret.

But I never just ask.

I could ask.

I could just fucking ask.

Today HatGirl sent me a picture of her ear.

I know what you're thinking.

What a strange thing for HatGirl to do!

Yes, well she had her reasons. But that's not the point I wanted to make with this entry.

The point I wanted to make was that, when you print out a picture and lick it, it doesn't taste very good.

So my friend RockGirl is stuck smack in the middle of this Winter storm. You know, the one where Mother Nature flipped me the bird with both hands and gave me nothing but rain while she dumped assload after assload of snow everywhere else.

I sent RockGirl an email earlier today, asking if she was dead.

She didn't respond, so I guess she's not dead, so whew!

Somebody be my damn valentine!

Before I do something stupid.

Please.

I've completely dropped the ball on my weekend beer report. It's Tuesday already, and I haven't even mentioned it.

Not that there's much to mention.

Friday, I stayed home. I was still sick. I had myself a couple of bottles of The Reverend (332) and the alcohol therein managed to do what Sudafed had failed to do - it dried my sinuses up to the point where I no longer feared that I'd drown in my own snot.

So by Saturday morning I was feeling much better. I actually felt like I was going to live. More than that, I felt like I wanted to live. Wonders never cease, huh?

Saturday afternoon, I preheated some empty pizza boxes and filled my house with smoke. So that was fun. I managed to keep the smoke alarm from going off by opening my windows and turning on my ventilation fan. Yes, it was fucking cold.

I think that would be a pretty shitty way to die. Burning my house down because I was too lazy to check my oven for trash before turning it on. Probably get a Darwin Award though.

Saturday night, I went to Rich O's. I sat in the throne with my yummy Wostyntje (229) and talked with MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl for a while. I was kinda feeling like a shithead. See, Saturday was the night of BadPickleGirl's birthday party, and I wasn't going. I'd politely declined her invitation.

But I guess the consensus is that I was not being a shithead. I detailed the situation, and the history, to MusicalYuppieDude and TremensGirl, and they both said that I shouldn't have gone to the party. In fact, they both said that I'd been way too nice about the whole thing. So that's good.

My next two beers were bottles of Delirium Tremens (836).

After MYD and TG left, I talked for a while with WomanRepellant, some chick who doesn't have a nickname, and a couple of strangers who'd sat on the sofa. I asked the chick for her opinion on the whole am I being a shithead thing, and she also said that I was being too damn nice.

Since I seemed to be in the mood for asking peoples' opinions, I borrowed one of the stranger's glasses for a bit, and held an informal frame-off. The stranger's frames are a lot like my own frames, just more rectangular than oval. The consensus was that I looked better with the more squarish frames. See, that's what I thought, back when I bought these glasses last year. But SassyGirl had told me that I should buy the ovalish ones. Next time, I'm going rectangular.

At 10:30 or so, I drunk-texted HatGirl. I haven't seen her in a million years. I tried to get her to come to Rich O's, but she declined.

So that sucked, and my mood plummeted.

I went over to Louisville and just basically dicked around for a while. Had a couple Diet Cokes. Talked to EllaGirl for a bit. Talked to the bartenders at The Pub for a bit. Then I bought some White Castles and came home at 1:30 or so.

Let's see, on Sunday I had to work all morning, then I went and drove all over Southern Indiana and Northern Kentucky, then I came back home.