That's what everyone hollered when my sister Dina returned home last night.

Of course she already knew we were there. All the cars in the driveway and the front yard would have given it away, even if she hadn't already seen the party noted on someone's calendar.

But when she and Kenny pulled into the driveway, we turned off all the lights anyway. And we all hid in the kitchen anyway. And we all hollered surprise anyway.

It's the thought that counts, right?

The occasion was Dina's birthday party. The actual birthday isn't until Wednesday, but nobody wanted to get plastered on Thanksgiving eve, so the party was last night.

Most of the usual suspects were there, with the notable exceptions of my cousin Jeff, who apparently hasn't figured out how to use his voicemail, and BadPickleGirl, who was stuck at home with a sick child.

Yes, I was very disappointed that BadPickleGirl wasn't going to be there. I'd been looking forward to seeing her and talking with her. I'd also planned to introduce her to The Reverend.

Speaking of The Reverend, that's what my first beer was (202). I'd originally thought that it would be my only beer, but I drank it fairly quickly and surprised myself by wanting more.

I spent the first couple of hours inside the house watching Nick at Nite with some kids. The other adults were outside either freezing to death or huddled in front of Dina's fancy new outdoor fireplace.

Then my friend Eric's wife Teri came in, so I had someone to talk to. SpoonsGirl joined us inside for a while too. I got the number for SpoonsGirl's brother, VegasDude. Since I'll be there next week I may look him up.

Since Eric hadn't shown up yet, Teri was out of beer. And since I'd finished mine, I was out of beer. So we went on a beer run to this little store in Greenville. They actually had a few beers that looked interesting. I chose one that was new to me:

Blue Moon Winter Ale

(bottle) Clear bronze. Good head and lacing. I got hints of several spices and unusual flavors, most notably of vanilla. Very easy to drink. Very good.

By the time we got back to Dina's, Eric had shown up. So I had someone else to talk to.

Then at one point everybody went inside the house to play some game but Teri and I stayed out by the fireplace and talked for a couple of hours. I had a second bottle of the Blue Moon Winter Ale (24).

Oh yeah, I got to talk to HatGirl early in the evening. They were going to Buckhead's and she wanted to know if there were any good beers there. I told her that I hadn't been there in months, but that they'd always had at least one or two beers that weren't swill.

Then later on I texted HatGirl to see which beer(s) she'd chosen but she texted me back saying that they hadn't gone after all. They'd gone to Rich O's.

At around midnight or so the last of the party guests started leaving, and I came home.

The place isn't too crowded tonight. Little pockets of humanity are scattered about. I'm sitting at the bar. Alone, for now, though I doubt that good fortune will last.

Koningshoeven Tripel Trappist Ale

(bottle) Hazy dark gold, smallish head, some lacing. A nice clean aroma. The flavor is not too bad. A little musty for some reason. Given a choice between this and the quad, you should always take the quad. Always.

I'm in a strange mood.

This morning I realized that it was November 17th. This date is of no significance, but Tuesday, Tuesday sure should have been. Used to be. This year, I didn't even notice, and now it's too late.

But that's not why I'm in a strange mood.

I caught myself this afternoon hoping against something. Wishing that it wouldn't happen. But at the same time I knew, if it didn't happen, I knew that I'd be incredibly disappointed.

This struck me as weird, to not want something yet know I'd be bothered if I didn't get it. Like I said, weird, and that was something new for me. For the longest time, I'd say or feel or write crazy things, and they'd seem perfectly acceptable to me. I suppose that, at some level, with whatever tiny vestige of logical thought I still possessed, I knew that I was insane. But I didn't care, back then. Because, back then, I had no choice. So I saw my behavior as completely normal. Normal for me, anyway.

Then today, I caught myself thinking something crazy. And I realized that it was crazy. This just might be a sign of actual progress.

But that's not why I'm in a strange mood.

Anyway, at about this time WomanRepellant came in and joined me at the bar. I talked to him for a couple of hours. I had myself a yummy Koningshoeven Quadrupel Trappist Ale (71) and then a Guinness (1291). I texted NotHideousGirl a couple of times, to no avail. I sent an email to RockGirl. Then I came home.

I'm still in a strange mood.

I was on some beach somewhere with some friends of mine. At least in my dream they were friends. I wouldn't recognize them in real life.

One of the guys seemed a little bit slower than normal. Like he was slightly retarded or something. He'd come to the beach clutching an envelope, and we got to talking about it. Apparently he'd been on some television show, and they'd given him the envelope. It was his most prized possession, and he carried it everywhere. He carried it in his hand, not his pocket. He wanted people to ask him about it.

So we were talking about his envelope, and I asked to see it.

Opening it up, I found a card, like a greeting card, with some certificate of appreciation or some such on the left, and a glob of goo on the right. I asked my friend about the goo glob, and he said that there'd been a little pretty rock stuck there, but it had fallen out.

I told him that I could get him another rock. That I had one I'd gotten from SassyGirl's house. He said that rocks were stupid anyway.

Well I wasn't going to stand still for that.

I took my own rock out of my pocket, and I told him about all of the things that I'd gone through since I got my rock. All of the things that should have destroyed me, but didn't. I told him about how my rock had had a calming spell put on it, and that if not for my rock, I probably wouldn't be there sitting next to him.

My friend kept rolling his eyes with everything I said. There I was, telling him about all these painful experiences, and all he could do was roll his eyes in disbelief.

It pissed me off.

So I threw his precious envelope and card in the bonfire.

Fucking retard. What a jerk.

The title of this entry, I didn't make it up.

It was something said on the show Heroes tonight.

No, I'm not in the habit of getting my deepest thoughts from television. I just thought that it fit something that I'd been thinking about lately.

Because the thing about grief, as I see it anyway, the thing about grief is that once it hits you, it sticks with you. Grief swoops in and drives a stake through your heart. And then, it's just there. It's a part of you.

It's convenient.

And when you need something to liven up your otherwise dull and pointless life, grief is there. It doesn't need constant reassurance, the way happiness does. It doesn't need compromise and commitment and honesty, the way love does. It doesn't need to turn a blind eye to the selfishness of others, the way friendship does.

Grief is simply there with you, beside you, inside you. Fucking fused with you.

Two days ago I observed the anniversary of my father's death. Yesterday I visited his grave, and next to it, the grave of my mother.

What I realized, while I sat on the cold ground and stared at the even colder granite of their headstone, what I realized was that the grief was gone. The sadness was completely gone.

I was alone with myself, for the first time in a very very very long time.

I once wrote:

Sadness didn't sneak up on me, it exploded all over me. Something happened to make me this way. Is it unreasonable to want something equally dramatic to change things back?

One that I caused. Not the death of a person, but the death of a friendship. The erasure of a potential that my mind still cannot quite come to grips with.

And now, it never will.

Because that grief is gone as well. It was my anchor, holding me steady even as the waves of time smashed against me. It was my fortress, isolating me from the ravages of existence. It was my shield, protecting me from the monsters of living.

It was also my cage.

Yesterday I sat on the cold ground, talking to the ghosts of my parents. I talked to them about grief. And I realized that, everything I said, I said in the past tense. No matter how much I tried, I could not become sad. Not for losing them. Not for losing her. My grim companion had finally abandoned me.

So I stood up. I brushed the dirt and the leaves from my pants, and I came back home.

Alone.

Some things seem too powerful to just fade away. Some things deserve an exit that's every bit as grand and dramatic as their entrance. Some things should stick with you forever.

I feel like I've been robbed.

Tonight, for a change of pace, I had a beer. This was the fourth bottle that I took to BadPickleGirl's house on Friday. We didn't get to it then, so I got to it tonight.

Bluegrass Mephistopheles Metamorphosis (25)

(bottle) No foam at all. I mean none. I've seen tap water with a bigger head. Other than that, poured a slightly hazy orange. Taste was, as expected, fairly flat and generic. Yeasty and bland in flavor, this beer did grow on me as time went by. I'd love to try this in draft form someday. Maybe there'll be some fizz then.

I think, instead of trying to tackle any of my new entry ideas, I think I'll just quote from my friend NotHideousGirl's blog:

Dave Siltz is the weirdest normal person I know, and I love him for it.

In response to that, I'll say this:

Kat is the most beautiful girl I know, who doesn't act like she's beautiful, and I love her for it.

Finally, my sister Neisha accused me the other day of killing and eating my cat Nugget, since she hasn't seen him in years and years. As proof that Nugget still lives, I present this picture (taken tonight) of him in all his fatness, along with the scratching post that he's slowly but surely shredding to bits:

This will probably be a long entry. It will probably also be boring. But a lot of stuff happened that I want to record.

Today is the eighth anniversary of my dad's death and, since Indiana bars are closed on Sundays, I went last night. I went to this little dive called The Hitching Post where Dad used to hang out so I could have a Falls City beer in remembrance.

I walked into the place at about 7:30. There was one guy slumped over the bar, and one bartender smoking a cigarette and watching a football game on TV. She looked at me when I came in and asked, "Falls City, right?"

I was pretty fucking impressed that she remembered me from a year ago, when I'd come in for the same reason.

So I had my Falls City (36) straight out of the can, the way Dad would drink it. It was pretty gross, but that wasn't the point. I didn't really get a chance to see if I could pick up any vibes from Dad because the bartender kept talking to me about her dad being in the hospital.

I left after that one beer.

BadPickleGirl had been telling me about this little diner in New Albany that I should go to. She said I'd be sure to get good ideas for blog content. Well I drove past the place, but I didn't go in. I'll go there someday with BadPickleGirl if she wants.

After a quick meal at Wendy's, I got to Rich O's at 8:30 or so.

The first several minutes were pretty chaotic.

When I arrived I went straight to the restroom. There was a pretty girl who looked very familiar sitting in the front area.

There were also a bunch of special people holding some kind of special people function in the special people area.

After purging the last of the Falls City from my system, I attempted to walk through the front area to get into Rich O's proper. I tried to get a better look at the pretty girl, but this one chick from work saw me and screamed out my name.

I gave her a nod and continued walking, but another girl saw me and screamed out my name and jumped up and threw herself at me.

It was CanadianGirl! She used to work at my company up until a couple of years ago. Now she lives in Omaha. She's back for a visit.

So I'm standing there talking to CanadianGirl and I realized who the pretty girl was. She also used to work at my company. I think she moved to Columbus. She used to be CanadianGirl's boss. So that mystery was solved.

So I'm still standing there talking to CanadianGirl and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see LuckyFucker and HatGirl making their way around me and going into Rich O's proper. I called out that I'd be in there with them shortly.

So I'm still standing there talking to CanadianGirl and I feel another tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see MisunderstoodGirl. Yay! I talked to her for a good minute or two. I asked her if she knew how to get in touch with SassyBoy. My thinking was that maybe I could call SassyBoy and see if he'd heard anything from SassyGirl since she fled the country. Well MisunderstoodGirl didn't know SassyBoy's number but she had heard through various channels that SassyGirl and JauntyGirl were doing just fine traveling around Europe. So that was a load off my mind as I'd been getting a little worried about those two.

Then I went back to talking to CanadianGirl for a minute or two. I guess she doesn't like Omaha as much as I'd liked it when I lived there. Her boyfriend and her aren't together anymore. This was her first visit back to Rich O's since she moved.

So I was standing there talking with CanadianGirl and I heard a "Hello Dave" from behind me. It was CoffeeDude making his way into Rich O's proper. I quickly excused myself from CanadianGirls grasp and followed him in. I needed to make sure that, if CoffeeDude was going to run HatGirl off with his "witty" comments again, that I at least got to spend some time with her first.

I always say, timing is everything.

Inside Rich O's proper, HatGirl was on the phone. I could tell that something bad was happening, and I was really afraid that she was going to cry. There was no way I'd be able to deal with seeing HatGirl cry, so I left her in LuckyFucker's care and went up to the bar to order my beer.

I ordered myself a yummy Gulden Draak (247)

I went and sat on the loveseat. HatGirl had gone off to the restroom or outside to finish her phone call or something. LuckyFucker said that HatGirl had been in a good mood, but that she'd suddenly developed a shitty mood. He filled me in on the reason for the change. I half-expected HatGirl and LuckyFucker to just leave, but they didn't. When HatGirl came back in, she was at least smiling.

HatGirl!

Yay!

After the chaos of those first five minutes, the rest of the night was rather uneventful. The place was packed with strangers. I did my best to just sit and talk with HatGirl and LuckyFucker, but I was accosted by CanadianGirl a few times, and by CoffeeDude a few times, and by that one chick from work a few times. My mission for the night was to do my best to keep HatGirl from crying. I did my part by making sure that CoffeeDude was kept so busy with other conversations that he wouldn't feel the need to jump into ours and say something inappropriate.

At about the time I ordered my third beer of the night, a Smithwick's (1368), this one dude sitting at the end of the sofa decided to take the picture of me and SassyGirl down. Why did he do this? I have no idea. But after about an hour of trying to get it back on the wall, he gave up and they ended up hanging it up in another location. The new location is directly above the throne. It looks better there. HatGirl took a picture of it in its new location but I have yet to figure out how to get the picture out of my blackberry. If I figure it out I'll insert it here.

At 10:30 or so, the group of current and former coworkers left for greener pastures. I was groped a few more times by CanadianGirl. She's always been a very friendly drunk.

And, just like that, the place was quiet.

I had another Smithwick's (1388) and talked to HatGirl and LuckyFucker for a few more minutes before they went home.

I spent a few minutes talking with CoffeeDude, then I came home myself at 12:30 or so.

I was just thinking about people that suck, and about how they outnumber the people that don't suck by a very wide margin.

The world has turned upside-down, inside-out.

How did things get to be this way?

Did it happen while we slept?

If so, then I wish I'd never woken up.

Does that make me weird?

a-dore (e-dor)
verb
1. To worship as God or a god.
2. To regard with deep, often rapturous love.
3. To like very much.

I think that number three is the correct definition here. Neither of the other two are correct. To tell the truth, number three doesn't seem quite right either . It seems too perfunctory. Too abrupt.

If I were to say that I adore HatGirl, and you were to translate that to mean that I like HatGirl very much, well it just wouldn't be quite be right.

I mean, I like the curry fries that the pub sells very much. I like banana milkshakes from Polly's Freeze very much. I like the way my cats purr when I pet them very much.

But, do I adore any of those things?

Nope.

But I do adore HatGirl.

Let me be clear - this is not based on any physical attraction. It is not a crush thing. It has, believe it or not, nothing at all to do with how pretty she is. I cannot stress that enough.

It's much more than that, and much less than that.

Let's try another definition.

a-dor-a-ble (e-dor-e-bul)
adjective
1. Delightful, lovable, and charming.
2. Worthy of adoration.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

HatGirl is, quite simply, adorable.

And I hope that she reads this. And I hope that it makes her feel a little bit better.