The problem last night, as I saw it, was that I don't think I ever shut up.

Actually, that was more of a symptom of the real problem. The real problem was that people could have seen me last night and decided that I was sociable or something. People might start trying to talk to me all the time. That would suck.

Anyway, I got to The New Albanian Public House a little after 7:00. That's what we're supposed to be calling Rich O's now. Quite a mouthful, isn't it? The parking lot was packed, so I parked on Mars and walked in.

Inside, it was about half full I guess. Mostly strangers. I sat on the throne and ordered a Browning's Bourbon Imperial Stout (45). A chick from work was there with her husband. They're cool people, and I spent quite a while talking to them about everything from love to skiing.

My next two beers were Rogue Deal Guy (268).

At 9:30 I drunk-texted BadPickleGirl that I missed her.

At around 10:00 or so, NeighborsDaughter came in with her husband, and I talked to them for the rest of the night. Mostly we talked about my neighbor's dog, Dino. I guess he's feeling his age quite a bit. I should walk across the street to see him.

Because VigilanteGirl used to work with NeighborsDaughter, I got to missing her quite a bit. I stopped by this little bar where she used to hang out, but she wasn't there.

I remember the Spring.

What started as screams are now nothing but whispers, and even those soft voices are fading fast. One by one the demons inside me are going silent. They do not leave - where would they go? Instead, they sleep. They sleep and they dream of sweet things.

They stretch their limbs and they yawn. Like a pile of kittens, they untangle themselves from each other, and they stand on wobbly legs, and they open their eyes.

"Something is happening," they whisper among themselves.

I can hear them.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

I overestimated the progress that we'd made.

Dammit.

It was maybe supposed to snow here tonight. I thought that I'd write something about it, if it did.

But it's not snowing yet, so I'll switch to plan b.

Write about beer!

Yay!

Here are my reviews of a couple of new (to me) beers that I've recently had the pleasure of drinking.

Schlafly's Christmas Ale (40)

(draft) Dark bronze. Very light foam. A strong aroma of whatzit and orange. The flavor was mostly whatzit, with some light orange peel thrown in. Despite the citrus, I did like this beer. I just wish I knew what the whatzit really was.

(draft) Black. Large brown head with great lacing. A nice chocolately flavor behind the bourbon, which shows up mainly in the lingering finish. Pretty damn yummy.

The Browning's was especially surprising. I've never been a fan of the beers from there, but there's a new brewer now. I should go in and see what else they have to offer.

The Schlafly's is pretty damn good too. I wish I could indentify the "whatzit" though. Perhaps someone will enlighten me.

Seven times.

I've seen her seven times.

Seems like more than that. Seems like it should be more than that.

I remember the first time I saw her. I saw her and I said to myself, Wow! Who is that?!? She's hot!

This kind of thing happens to me all the time. I am a straight and single guy after all.

The thing that makes the situation with this girl a little strange is that, I've seen her six times since then, and each and every time I've said to myself, Wow! Who is that?!? She's hot!

I don't seem to be able to recognize her. Not at first. It always takes a few seconds before my brain let's me remember that I've seen her before. It always takes a few seconds before my brain stops being surprised at how pretty she is. It always takes a few seconds before my brain let's me get a word in edgewise.

Hey, asshole, you already know her. Put your pants back on.

It's pretty cool, to be astonished by the familiar.

I highly recommend it.

Some of you may recall a conversation I wrote about a while ago. A conversation between my lovely self and Roger, the owner of Rich O's.

That conversation went something like this:

So for a while there my life was pretty good. It had meaning. I had something to look forward to.

Not anymore.

Yesterday, I found this on Roger's blog.

Harpoon Winter Warmer has been scratched from the Saturnalia line-up.

Because of bean counters.

I fucking hate bean counters.

I could swear that the stool across the table creaked when she sat down.

Or maybe it was something as simple as the way the sounds of the room changed, the way they had to take a different route as they bounced around the room. Or maybe the lights dimmed, just a little bit.

Whatever. Something happened.

I braced myself. Though I knew that it wouldn't do any good, though I knew that I never had been and never would be prepared, I braced myself for the sound of her voice.

"Hi, stranger," she said.

And there it was.

"Hi yourself," I said.

It was the best I could do. My mind was already racing. Why is she sitting across from me, and not next to me? Does she know? What will I say to her?

I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I didn't dare open them. I didn't dare look up. I couldn't look at her. It would ruin everything, if she saw my eyes.

"Haven't seen you around here in a while," she said. It was a question phrased as a statement.

"I was out of town last week," I answered. "And before that I was a little busy."

I held my breath.

"Busy?" she asked. "Doing what?"

Fuck.

She already knew. I could hear it in the crack of her voice.

"Who is she?" she asked softly.

I took a sip from my beer, and I swirled it around in my mouth.

This was my chance. I could put a stop to this right then and there. With one tiny little lie, I could finally end it.

I swallowed my beer.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie to her. Not even for this. Not even to set us both free.

"She's nobody," I answered.

"Nobody?" she asked. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," I answered. "Nobody at all."

It was amazing, how effortlessly those words left my lips.

"Why should I believe you?" asked. There was, however, no accusation in her voice. She already knew the answer. She just wanted to hear me say it. To hear me admit it.

I raised my head. I could see her. She sat not three feet in front of me. I could smell her. Feel her heat. I could almost touch her.

I opened my eyes.

"Because you're here," I said to an empty stool.

I'm wondering, did she simply use me for my knowledge of beer and its various glassware?

And, after having gleaned that information, could she then find no other use for me?

Well I suppose that's okay.

It's not like I didn't get anything from the experience.

I checked her ass out every chance I got.

Nice.

Damn.

I had a thought.

Not more than five minutes ago, I had an actual thought.

But that train was derailed. Derailed by my cat Nugget deciding that now would be a good time to jump into my lap and finally welcome me home from Las Vegas.

Oh, what a good kitty Nugget is! Now go away.

Now to get that train back on the track.

I have no idea what I was thinking.

I bet it was about some girl though.

Because I never know when Evangeline Lilly is going to approach me and challenge me to a tongue-wresting match, I've been carrying these little Listerine thingies around with me all the time.

They look like thin sheets of plastic, and they dissolve almost instantly in my mouth. You've probably seen them.

Anyway, sliding one of the thingies out if its container and putting it on my tongue takes about two seconds, and makes my breath minty-fresh.

But when five or six of the things stick together, and I don't realize it until it's too late, they set my entire mouth on fire and make me for several painful moments regret that whole being born choice that I made many years ago.

I didn't say that this would be an interesting entry.