Avery The Reverend: 22
Delirium Tremens: 14
Me: 0

Reese Witherspoon is hot.

Not all the time.

Like I didn't think she was that great in Cruel Intentions. Sarah Michelle Gellar was about a zillion times hotter than Reese Witherspoon in that movie.

But Reese is still hot sometimes.

Like in Sweet Home Alabama.

My fucking hosting company has decided that it would be funny to have my email break.

Again.

Avery The Reverend: 22
Delirium Tremens: 11.2
Me: 0

What's wrong with you?

This does not compute.

Maybe you're gay.

I bet that's it.

I can't think of any other reason.

Avery The Reverend: 22
Delirium Tremens: 6.2
Me: 0

You know what pisses me off?

When people tell me that he seems like a pretty nice guy.

Here's a news flash for you fuckers: I'm a pretty fucking nice guy myself.

I'd much rather be told what an asshole he is. Because I know that I'm no match for that. But my niceness, my niceness I'll put up against anyone's.

There, I bet I'll regret writing this entry in the morning.

That didn't take as long as I'd thought it would.

So far:

Avery The Reverend: 22
Me: 0

These damn questions are still nagging at me though. I knew that one bottle, even a 22-ounce 10% bottle, wouldn't be enough to put these questions to rest for the night.

I wonder, how many senseless entries I can post before I finally, mercifully, stop?

I wonder, can I keep them senseless, or will I'll write something that I'll regret?

So tomorrow is an anniversary of sorts.

One of the few good ones.

After tomorrow, they'll all suck until December.

Reminders of death and desertion and deception and denial are what the Fall brings to me, but tomorrow is still Summer.

A wise man once asked, What is it about anniversaries? They really, when you think about it, hold no meaning at all. Whatever they signify, it's not happening now - it happened a year ago, or ten years ago. Whatever. Why should a date on a calendar receive special merit just because something once happened on that same date in the past?

I don't know why anniversaries get special attention, but sometimes I'm glad that they do. I'm glad that she remembers what tomorrow is.

Our anniversary.

You ever think about how constant constancy is?

That's probably why they call it that, instead of transience or something like that.

I thought that the word would be constance, but it's not. I looked it up. It's constancy.

That's weird. Transient becomes transience, but constant becomes constancy. Fucking English.

Anyway, one thing has remained constant through all of this bullshit that I've used instead of a life for the past two years.

Is the phrase remained constant repetitive? Probably.

Maybe they used the word constance because that's a chick's name. Or something like that.

Later.

Tonight, I plan to drink. I've got some lovely beer in my fridge. A large bottle of Avery The Reverend and two small bottles of Delirium Tremens. All will be yummy.

I'm drinking at home Rich O's is closed. Bars that close on Labor Day make me sad.

And, when I'm sad, I drink.

No, it is not circular reasoning, so shut up.

Also tonight, I plan to ponder something that was revealed to me the other night. Something which I will keep to myself. It just doesn't compute, and I fear that my brain may explode when I try to comprehend it.

I wonder if my cats would eat my brains?

Probably. Ungrateful little snots.

Besides being sad and trying to compute the incomputable and planning my cats' next meal, I'm doing some wondering.

Wondering is a bad thing. It must be stopped. It must be drowned with alcohol.

I mean, what the fuck? Seriously, how could that be possible? It just doesn't compute. Is he fucking stupid or something?

I need a drink.

I was checking out HarpO's videos and, while I knew that I could never compete with the harp playing, I felt that I could give the highway traffic videos a run for their money.

So here are some birds, with background audio of me talking to SassyGirl on the phone.