...because I'm finding it difficult to stretch anything out beyond a few sentences.

I think that an implied lie might be even worse than an explicit one. Why would I think such a thing? Well, because an implied lie reveals not only the foolishness of the recipient, but also the cowardice of the liar.

---

I bought a new jacket on Friday, and this morning the snap thingy on the sleeve broke. So my luck may be turning. Yesterday was nice though.

---

When I leave the quiet and solitude of my room, and ride the elevator down, and walk out onto the casino floor, I always smile. It's like I forget where I am, and the lights and the music jolt me back to reality. I love it here.

---

It sucks to not have a camera phone anymore. I did bring my good camera with me, but I don't feel like lugging it around 24/7.

---

It would be cool to bring NotHideousGirl to Las Vegas. We could find an open-mike night somewhere, and she could sing and be discovered and become famous and shit. All thanks to me.

I did something kinda silly in the Summer. And by kinda silly I mean unbelievably fucking stupid.

I'd had this plan, see? Call it plan A. Problem was, if plan A was to have any real meaning at all, then there could be no plan B. Plan B had to be eliminated. So that's what I did. Like I said, kinda silly.

And then, then plan A never even got off the ground. Lack of opportunity and a myriad of other things all combined to thwart that plan before it could even get started.

It was mostly the other things. I could have forced an opportunity if I'd really tried.

Man, I'm rambling. I blame the hot blonde girl who just finished dancing on the platform thingy in front of me.

Anyway.

It seems to me that most relationships end.

This is relevant because...

I'm having a tough time coming up with words. Damn you hot blonde dancing girl!

It's relevant because, chance are, one particular relationship will end at some point.

Well, this entry just isn't going to let itself be written. I'm trying to be cryptic here, and I guess it's working because I'm not even making sense to myself.

So instead, I'll write an email to RockGirl. I don't have to be cryptic with her.

I'll write to her, and I'll tell her what I'm afraid of.

And she'll read it, and she'll respond that I'll do what's right because that's the kind of person I am.

And I'll read her words, and then maybe I'll be a little less afraid.

8:00
I was thinking about eating something. Not because I was particularly hungry. Just because I knew I'd be drinking.

I wandered around The Rio for a while, but nothing really jumped out at me, food-wise. Then I had the idea of going to downtown to grab some dinner and a Black Chip Porter at Main Street Station. then I remembered that I was supposed to call SpoonsGirl's brother, VegasDude. I called him and left a message. I guess there's a chance that we could end up downtown sometime this week. He's a guy, so the universe will not implode if he calls me back.

So I went and played three hands of video poker, got a royal flush, and decided to quit while I was ahead.

Now I'm sitting at the bar in The Tilted Kilt, having a Tilted Kilt Ale (348).

8:17
Just used my Blackberry to check the Freakin' Frog website. They always have their current drafts listed there. I see that they currently have my beloved Alaskan Amber on tap!

Yay!

So now I know where I'm going tomorrow.

8:22
The taps for Newcastle and Fat Tire and Dead Guy and Tilted Kilt are calling to me. I should do a formal comparison of those four. They're similar enough that it should be interesting.

8:25
StupidGirl is working. I should probably give her a new nickname, but I've become attached to this one. I'm sure I'll talk to her sometime tonight. She looks cute.

8:27
This bartender working tonight is slow.

8:28
Scratch that - while I was writing about how he was slow, he was already pouring me another Tilted Kilt (364).

8:35
I think I'll do the tasting on Tuesday when HenPeckedDude is working. This guy tonight would probably screw it up.

8:40
I need to eat something. For some reason I always crave grilled cheese sandwiches in Las Vegas.

8:46
I must remember to buy some lip balm.

8:47
And a case of condoms. Ha ha.

9:00
Piss time.

9:03
Another Tilted Kilt (380).

9:27
It's surreal to be sitting here. I've gone through a lot on this stool.

9:45
Piss time, and Diet Coke time.

10:00
So, I guess PictureGirl is seeing someone now. I think I'm relieved. I mean, it would have been nice to see her, but the thought of her waiting around for me to visit creeped me out a little.

11:15
Been talking to StupidGirl. I'd love to talk some more, but the time zone change is catching up with me. Time for bed.

It's funny how things work out sometimes.

Allow me to 'splain.

My mind is your basic two-track male model. Sometimes I can squeeze in a third track, but usually it's the same two over and over.

So, because of one of the tracks, I was looking forward to having Rogue Chocolate Stout while in Las Vegas. I discovered that wonderful beer here last December, and when I came back in August it was here waiting for me.

So I had it last December in Las Vegas. I had it at Rich O's during DaveFest in June and July, and I had it again when I returned to Las Vegas in August. Throw in the few times I've had it in bottled form, and I've had it a lot. About 1,000 ounces, up until last week.

Now I'm up to 1,172 ounces.

Because, last week, it came back to the Rich O's draft list.

Yay!

This was very cool, and it was made even more cool because it was a surprise to me.

But I remember thinking, last Wednesday as I drank a yummy pint, I remember thinking, Now what am I supposed to look forward to drinking in Las Vegas?

Fat Tire I can get here. I like Fat Tire, but it's not really enough to wrap an entire trip to Las Vegas around.

Ditto for the Black Chip Porter up at Main Street Station. Besides, that's only available up there, and it's a $50 cab ride away from The Rio.

I had no idea what beer would end up defining this trip.

Until I walked into The Tilted Kilt this afternoon.

There was no Rogue Chocolate Stout on tap.

But, that was okay, because in its place, there was...

*drumroll*

Pyramid Tilted Kilt!

Fucking yay and yay!

This beer, for those of you who haven't been studying me as much as you should, is a beer that I discovered here in the Spring of 2004. It immediately became one of my all-time favorites, and I drank a lot of it.

Then, I never saw it again. I was even told that Pyramid had stopped making it.

I was devastated, I tell you.

But no more.

Because Pyramid Tilted Kilt has come back into my life, and now I know which beer will define this entire trip.

I had two small pints (332) with my lunch, and now I've got to try to get some sleep.

But first, here's the rest of my day so far.

My suitcase was the third one to arrive at baggage claim.

The taxi line was a million miles long, but I overheard a dude tell a driver that he was going to The Rio, and I ended up sharing the taxi with him.

There was a hot naked chick at the check-in counter. She was yelling something about something.

I got a room right away. Sometimes I have to wait for hours before a room is available.

Anyway, I'm fucking tired now. I was too excited to sleep last night. I need to sleep now, at least for a couple of hours.

I'm sitting in a bar in the Cincinnati airport with most of an hour to kill before my flight to Las Vegas. I guess I'm about 90 miles from home.

The strange thing is that this is plenty far enough. I have no need to go any farther. Oh, I certainly want to go farther. I've been looking forward to this trip for a long time. But, and this is something that I've had pounded into my brain for the last few months, wants and needs are two different things. Sometimes they are two very different things. Sometimes they even oppose each other. They face off across the field of my life, prepared to battle. To the death if necessary. To my death if necessary.

Fortunately that's not the case with me here and now. Here and now what I need is a logical subset of what I want.

I want to go to Las Vegas. I want to drink some good beer. I want to see PictureGirl. I might even want to do some gambling or maybe take in a show or two.

But what I need, what I need is to get the fuck away from Southern Indiana.

So this is an unusual trip for me. I've always been pulled before. This time I'm being pushed. I guess Las Vegas is a pretty good place to end up.

They need to invent a pill that I can take each November and drop into a coma. And then I wouldn't have to wake up until it was time to leave for Las Vegas.

Maybe I could get my sister to wheel my vegetative body into the airport and then they could give me an injection or something after the plane takes off.

I don't like November. I don't like what November does to me. I don't like what November reveals to me. About myself. About my friends.

So I could just take the pill around the 23rd or so, or whenever I feel myself start to crumble. Whichever comes first.

The place was pretty damn busy last night. I ordered myself a Rogue Chocolate Stout (1152) and stood at the end of the bar until a spot opened up on the sofa next to some strangers. I did try to talk to them a little, but my head just wasn't in it, so as soon as TallLady moved from the bar I moved up there and took her old seat.

I texted RockGirl that they seemed to be having a S.I.G.H. convention at Rich O's, but that I didn't really care. The members who I'd been hoping to see weren't there.

Then this dude who looks like my cousin Robbie came up and started yakking at me. Wanting me to go to this Mac's place that I don't like. I told him that I was doing perfectly fine where I was. "But there are girls at Mac's!" he protested. "Big fucking deal," I responded.

Then the throne opened up so I moved there.

I texted HatGirl to see if she was coming. She responded that she wasn't, so that sucked. But at least she did respond. That seems to be an impossible feat for some people these days.

Let's see, at about the time WomanRepellant came in, I ordered another Rogue (1172).

I sat and nursed my beer and talked with WomanRepellant and a couple who had been in Wednesday night. The whole time my mood got worse and worse.

So I left Rich O's at about 10:30, and went to try to find VigilanteGirl.

Yes, I was in that much of a mood.

But she wasn't at the place I went, so I just had myself a Newcastle (2738) and listened to some karaoke and then came home.

...yes, I'm fucking pissed.

Mostly about how I react to certain stimuli. Or the lack of certain stimuli.

But only mostly.

Fucking look them up yourself:

cour-te-sy
po-lite-ness
de-cen-cy

It would have taken ten fucking seconds out of your life to lift my mood.

Apparently, that was too much to hope for.

I'm out now. Don't even fucking bother.

Yesterday I was talking to BadPickleGirl about how I had to go shopping today for luggage and jeans.

Being a woman, BadPickleGirl has all of the shopping places in the area mapped out and locked in to her brain. I think that, for this purpose, women use the same area of the brain that I use to keep track of all the bars and poolhalls.

Anyway, she told me that I should go to this place called Tuesday Morning for my luggage.

So that's where I went.

Man, am I whipped or what?

They did indeed have luggage. Pretty nice stuff and very good prices. One-offs I think. I picked out a large suitcase and a matching smaller case for carry-on. Retail price was like $400, but I was only going to have to pay $75. Hell of a deal, I think.

I got to the checkout counter and I had to wait - I shit you not - 25 minutes for some old lady in front of me to fill out her check and find her driver's license. So that sucked.

The hag finally got out of my way so I put the two suitcases on the counter to be scanned.

The guy started opening up the small suitcase. I guess this is because I look like a thief or something.

Inside the small suitcase was a soft-sided carry-on bag!

I didn't put it there!

Really!

So I told the guy that I didn't want the soft-sided bag, that I hadn't put it there, and that maybe he should check the large suitcase to see what might be stashed hidden in there.

"Gee, ya think?" the guy's eyes said to me.

Inside the large suitcase was, of course, a smaller suitcase.

I didn't put that there either!

I swear!

The guy took it pretty well I suppose. I don't think it was the first time it had happened. They stuff shit inside other shit to save shelf space. The guy did, however, seem a little surprised and maybe even a little disappointed that I hadn't decided to buy the extra items. Maybe some people would have done so out of embarrassment or something.

So that was fun. And now I've got decent luggage for my Las Vegas trip.

BadPickleGirl had also told me to go to some place that sells dead peoples' clothes. She'd said that I could get cheap jeans there.

I passed on that, and went to the mall like a regular person.