Friday night was kind of a bust.

The place seemed more crowded than it was, mainly because of the presence of certain assholes.

I sat at the bar and had myself a Founder's Black Rye (32). I was pretty sure that I'd had this before, but the bartender didn't remember them carrying it. Well, I was right - I've had it before and I liked it okay.

Then some bullshit happened.

Then this one douchebag finally left the island so I moved my shit away from this one asshole and sat up there.

Coincidentally, or maybe on purpose, Rich O's also had Founder's Red Rye on tap. So I had one of those next (100). It was pretty good.

After a while, WomanRepellant came in and sat with me. Then some other people came and sat with us. Then some other people came and stood around us.

I was feeling pretty claustrophobic, and plus for some reason those two beers were going straight to my head.

So I went home.

On Saturday, SassyGirl called to see if I wanted to go over to the Cumberland Brewpub. Well, duh. Of course I did. They have such a yummy porter there.

I braved the weekend Bardstown Road traffic and met SassyGirl at about 6:30. I'd actually gotten lucky and I got to park right in front of the place. This is different than usual, when I have to park on Mars and then walk the rest of the way. So Yay!

I had a burger and fries, and a couple of yummy Cumberland Nitro Porters (160) while SassyGirl and I caught up on what's been happening since we last saw each other. We also talked about stuff like how her gaydar is quite accurate and mine sucks. I guess that makes sense though.

There was a chick at the bar that I thought was hot, and I was sure that SassyGirl would think so as well, but she once again baffled me by going, "Ehhh."

When we left Cumberland we went down the road a little to this place called Willy's. I'd never been there before, but I'd heard that they had a lot of beer on tap.

Well that part was true. Here's a picture of some of their 68 taps:

Pretty impressive, but also quite hard to read all those taps. Luckily they had a beer menu so we checked it out.

Proving once again that great minds think alike, except when it comes to which girls are hot, we chose the same beer:

Bert Grant's Perfect Porter (24)

(draft) I guess this place has gone out of business. Hmmm, I wonder how long this beer has been sitting in the keg. The first thing I noticed was that it was quite thin. Like water. It took me a long time to figure out how to describe the flavor. That's because there was nothing. It was all roasted malt. I think I'd have liked this better if it wasn't so old-tasting.

SassyGirl had to get ready for work, so we left Willy's at about 9:00. I took this picture of the dance floor on the way out:

Apparently there's a giant iguana that lives under there. Those are Mannequins of The Blues Brothers. Weird.

So I dropped SassyGirl back off at her truck and headed back to Indiana.

First thing I did, because I was in a mischievous mood, was go to Buckhead's. I didn't really plan to heckle my friend who recently started working there, but I wasn't feeling averse to making her think I was going to heckle her. For a minutes anyway.

Well, she wasn't there, but sometimes shit happens even when it's not the shit you were expecting.

MixedSignalGirl was there.

I was walking around the bar, looking at all the waitresses to see if my friend was working, and I nearly ran into MixedSignalGirl. She'd been walking around the bar, in the opposite.direction, looking for me.

Okay, to be fair, she wasn't quite looking for me. Just wondering if I was there. Well, I was. And so was she.

We spent a good few minutes joking about how fate had once again thrown us together. That's kind of a theme with us.

But she couldn't stay. She'd ordered food for herself and the asshole, so we went our separate ways.

It was still early, so I went to Rich O's next.

The place was actually pretty dead. I loved it. I sat at the bar and had a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (873) and talked for a bit with ElPresidente.

Once the PBDs cleared out, I had a bit of an episode. I looked at this...

...and felt a little nostalgic. Okay, a lot nostalgic.

Luckily that wave of emotion passed through me quickly, and I felt fine after that. I came home and shot some pool until about 4:00.

Okay, this is still a work in progress.

I'd wanted to get the entire site revamped before I went live with this new look, but it's taking me forever.

I decided that I didn't want to wait any longer. I wanted to provide commenting capabilities.

So, as of right now, the main blog has a new look that is still being tweaked, but all of the other crap on this site still has the old look.

There are zillions of things left for me to do, I know.

But the commenting seems to be working.

(continued)

I'll tell you what I wish. You won't be surprised.

I wish that I'd met MixedSignalGirl about six months earlier.

Because that way, see, my heart would already have been awakened, but it would not yet have imprinted itself on anyone. And by anyone I of course mean you know who.

Yes, I wish I'd met her earlier. Before it was too late. There was beautiful potential there. There really was.

I was sitting at Hooter's tonight waiting for my cousin Jeff to arrive and give me a ride home. He came in when I typed (to be continued) earlier.

Jeff and I sat and talked with each other and with the pretty bartender. It was good to see him. It was especially good to see him away from his usual haunt, which is the Hooter's in Jeffersonville. When Jeff's away from his normal hangout he's more like his old self.

Let's see, I ended up having a couple more Newcastles (1884) and a Diet Coke.

Obviously, I was in more of a mood to write earlier than I am right now.

At least I finished the thing.

The bartender just dug a pen out of her purse for me. She must want it up the ass. Not the pen though. Or maybe the pen. I dunno, but I bet she wants something up the ass.

I'm sitting at the Hooter's in Clarksville, having just dropped my truck off at the nearby Toyota dealer. They're having a recall so they can replace some steering doohickey. Apparently, these doohickeys are prone to breakage and causing hilarity on the highways. Yikes! I'm also going to get my A/C fixed in the thing.

Oh yeah, I'm having a yummy Newcastle (1848) and it's yummy. So take that, Roger!

I was sitting here thinking about, wondering about actually, what would have happened if I'd taken the advice of so many people and just went for it. Or, "Whipped it out," as it was more often suggested.

I don't know why I was wondering about this. I already know what would have happened. I've known all along. Even when it was still easy to know, even then I knew there was no future for us.

A couple of weeks. Maybe a month. Maybe a little longer because I'm stubborn and because she's so incredibly fucking beautiful and wonderful, but that would be all.

I'm having another Newcastle (1860) now.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. Nowhere.

I'm just killing time here.

I continue to be astonished by the fact that I'm still alive. That this news didn't kill me. In many ways, I'm more perplexed and surprised now that I was back when all this shit started. Oh, back then that took me by surprise, sure, but since then I'd begun to think that I'd gotten to know myself fairly well. Well enough to know the difference between that which would completely devastate me and that which I'd simply shrug off.

Well, I was wrong. Again.

I'm thinking about having that engraved on my tombstone. Like this:

Anyway, to jump back to the beginning of this sorry excuse for an entry, there was never any real possibility for a future between us. My brain has always known this, but it took time for my heart to finally shut the fuck up long enough that my brain could be heard.

You know what I wish?

Of course you do. You have my entire journal memorized. Plus, you can read my mind.

(to be continued)

Look into an emergency.

Look into another emergency.

Attend a meeting.

Look into the second emergency some more.

Explain why you aren't looking into the first emergency.

Attend another meeting.

Hand the first emergency off to someone else.

Fix the second emergency.

Attend yet another meeting.

Look into the third emergency.

Fix the third emergency.

Repeat for ever and ever.

...should be Thursday.

That is all.

Right now, right this second, I'm actually in the mood to write something.

This is a good thing, I believe. At least for me it is.

I was really starting to wonder if this mood would ever strike me again.

Anyway, here goes.

---

I don't know who you are anymore.

I'm not sure that I ever really did.

Your face has become murky, your body nondescript. Your voice, your eyes, your hair - I can no longer imagine any of them with any consistency and not with any certainty. I don't know who you are.

For the longest time, longer than I care to remember with any accuracy except that just I happen to know the year and the month and the day and the hour and the minute when it began, I knew exactly who you were. What you looked like. How your voice sounded. How your eyes sparkled. How you'd smile at me, and my heart would stop, and a part of me would silently wish that it would never beat again, so that I might die in such a perfect moment.

Well, sometimes wishes don't come true, and sometimes I end up being grateful for being denied that which I'd wished for.

Like right now.

I was so sure that she was you, so sure that you were her, that I stopped looking for you altogether.

I was wrong. I see that now. If you were her, if she was you, then you'd be here beside me right now, and I wouldn't be writing this drivel.

You're still out there somewhere though. I imagine my future and I can almost see you lying beside me. I can almost hear your voice as you tell me that you love me. I can almost feel the heat from your body as I hold you close.

Hope is a strange thing. It exists only to disappoint, for once it's fulfilled, it vanishes. But hope still drives me. It drives me to keep looking for you. Misjudgments and misconceptions and miscalculations, and failure and collapse and loss, they might slow me down at times but they will never completely deter me.

You are out there somewhere, and I will find you.

And when I do, and when I do I will take your hand in mine. And I'll look into your eyes. And everything that's been missing in my life will be found. And all of the pain will fade away. And I'll know in my heart that it was all worth it, all worth it so that I could be standing there with you at that moment.

And you'll feel the same way.

Because you're the one.

What am I supposed to write about when there's nothing to write about?

Fuck if I know.

I hate the thought of this becoming nothing more than a simple and boring chronicle of my simple and boring existence. Of course, it's often been that despite my best intentions, but every now and then it became something more. Something important for me to write, and something equally important for me to read.

Now? Now, not so much.

Enough whining. On with the drivel.

I've spent a good chunk of the last few days working on my website. What started out as a simple desire to add commenting capability has evolved into a full-blown site restructuring. Problem is, the more I change, the less I like it. Can't quit now though. I only quit the important things in my life.

Dammit, asshole! I said that's enough whining!

Today after work I stopped by Rich O's. I had a Smithwick's (746) and I talked with Roger for a bit about DaveFest. I guess that Rogue Chocolate Stout may be arriving late - so late in fact that the entire thing might get pushed back to the second week of June. We also talked about t-shirts. I don't know what's going to happen with that.

GlassesGirl and MusicalHippyDude came in just before I left. I guess they had a party Saturday night and tried, in vain, to contact me. I told them that it was nice of them to think of me.

I guess that's it. Would the last person to leave please turn out the lights?

They just had one of those human-interest stories on the morning news.

The Possum Lady of Southern Indiana.

This old lady had possums all over the place! People bring her possums from all over the area! She let the vile things crawl all over her!

I guess I should applaud her. I could never do what she does. Those damn beady eyes...

Once again, I'm taking the lazy way out. I took notes last night.

8:20
Rich O's is closed, so I'm going to this Mac's place that I don't like very much. They have Newcastle on tap, and maybe MisunderstoodGirl will be there.

8:45
There's nobody here but fuckheads and idiots. Not even Newcastle is worth putting up with these people. I'm outta here.

8:55
I'm at Sportstime, the sister business of Rich O's. At least they have the decency to be open. LIke I always say, it's weird over here. I order a BBC Jefferson's Reserve Bourbon Barrel Stout (204).

9:05
This is so boring.

9:10
The guy at the next table and his beard are drinking LIndemann's - a popular chick drink. I don't think she'll be getting any dick tonight. At least not from him. Maybe they'll just cuddle or something.

9:14
It's like a million degrees in this place.

9:15
Idiots leave and new idiots immediately fill the void. There's no end to the cycle of idiots.

9:18
Everybody thinks that one girl is hot. I don't know why. She's shaped like a potato.

9:20
That one chick better hope that the fire marshall doesn't come in. Her hair is so big it's blocking all the escape routes. Nice tits though.

9:25
I'm moving to another table. One with better airflow.

9:27
Much better!

9:35
The sign outside the brewery says "Cone Smoker 4/26." The would be a very welcome addition to the NABC lineup.

9:38
The board also mentions something called "Hoosier Daddy." Firstly, I don't know what that is, and secondly, that's a stupid name.

9:40
Upon further review, the board does say "Cone Smoker" but there's no date next to it. Figures. How dare I get my hopes up that they'd make a beer that I actually like? It's already been a zillion years.

9:44
The server doesn't know what "Hoosier Daddy" is either.

9:50
I'm dying of thirst over here! Hello, ServerDude!

9:51
At least PotatoGirl dresses nicely. Everybody else looks like they got smuggled in inside somebody's car trunk.

9:53
They're out of Weihenstephaner, so I order a Baltika 6 and cross my fingers.

9:54
They're fucking out of Baltika 6 too, so I order a BBC Alt and cross my fingers and my toes.

9:55
Yay! I have a BBC Alt (232).

10:00
Piss time.

10:11
The 1970s called, and they want their hairstyle back.

10:16
Boring, I tell you!

10:25
Piss time.

10:26
I get another BBC Alt (244). The first one was yummy, so why not? I also order a pizza to go.

10:34
Such a lovely copper color!

10:37
I'm watching a fucking basketball game. That's how bored I am.

10:40
I think PotatoGirl might be pregnant. If so, it's not my fault.

10:47
Pizza is here. I'm leaving.