Friday morning I emailed RockGirl that I was going to let fear keep me from going to Rich O's on Friday night. Not my proudest moment, but there it was anyway.

Friday afternoon I emailed HatGirl that I was feeling exposed, and that I wouldn't be at Rich O's on Friday night.

On Friday night, I went to Rich O's.

I arrived quite late - after 10:00 - because I really had planned on just staying home. But my cat Buddy got into a fight with the blinds in the guest room where I was sleeping and that woke my ass up.

When I pulled in behind the place to park there was a storm rolling in, so instead of going around front I just snuck in the back door. None of the bartenders even saw me. I'm sure that some Hollywood people will be calling me about becoming the next James Bond.

Let's see. the place was about half full. A bunch of strangers were in the living room area, and a bunch more were in the red room. ExoticGirl and a couple more chicks were sitting at the bar...

I've had a problem for the past several weeks. I seem to be unable to recognize DooRagGirl with her new haircut. She was sitting right there next to ExoticGirl and I didn't even recognize her until she turned around and even then she had to pretty much smack me in the head.

I think she should start wearing a long wig to Rich O's. She can cut a couple of inches off the wig every week. That way it will be a gradual enough change that I may be able to keep up. I'm sure that this wouldn't be too much trouble for her.

Also sitting next to DooRagGirl was her sister OddlyFamiliarGirl who I guess thinks that I'm mad at her because I didn't talk to her last week. It wasn't that at all, I was pissed at the person she was sitting with, not at her. But whatever, OddlyFamiliarGirl didn't even turn around.

Anyway, one of the PBDs already had taken the spot at the end of the bar, so instead of standing there and talking with the ladies I moved over and sat at the island for a while.

My first beer was one of these:

Bell's Rye Stout (10)

(draft) I found this to be a basic stout with a slight chocolate flavor and a touch of rye bitterness at the finish. I liked it a lot, and I will probably go try to find it in bottles.

JW Lees Manchester Star Porter (10)

(draft) Smelled like snot, but that might have been because I was developing a cold. Served too warm for my tastes, and I almost never say that. A very creamy and smooth chocolatey porter. It contains more alcohol than I'd have guessed. I'd like to try this again once they get the cooler fixed.

While at the bar, I had myself a couple Guinnii (1237) and talked with the bartenders and the PBD that had been there all along. Then I came home a little after 12:00.

Oh, shit! I almost forgot again. The other day I went to Rich O's after work and tried one of these:

Upland Castle Rock Irish Red Ale (20)

(draft) My first impression was that this beer was simply a relabeled Smithwick's. After a bit, however, I did begin to notice a slight hint of bitterness. More like a hint of a hint actually. Smithwick's is better.

I almost never do that. Write an entry, then post it, then wake up four hours later and delete the thing.

I almost never do it.

So, if you know what I'm talking about, you should consider yourself lucky I suppose.

Okay, now I'm pissed.

Not at all of you. Not even at most of you.

Just some.

Just those of you in that subset of the population of this country that are mindless idiots. Unable to form actual opinions of your own, you instead allow talking heads on television to tell you what to think.

You know who you are.

All of you sheep, please, fuck off and die now.

So today was kinda fun I guess.

I got the opportunity to explain myself to a friend who, somehow, had managed to remain clueless as to what's been going on with me. What's been wrong with me. Why I am the way I am. Why I write the drivel that I write.

I guess she must have thought I was a bipolar asshole for no reason whatsoever.

Well, I told her the reason.

I'm not ashamed of what happened to me. It's not like I had a choice in the matter. If I'd had a choice things would be different, to be sure, but there was never a choice. There was only inertia and gravity and roadways and all those other metaphors that I've become so accustomed to flinging and slinging about.

Remember the gorilla? That one was my favorite.

I've just noticed that I'm writing in the past tense now.

That's a stupid thing to do. Stupid and premature. For that tense implies, duh, that this is in the past. That it's over.

I don't know that.

I only suspect it.

And I've been wrong before.

Tomorrow I have to change cubicles.

This really blows. Partly because I had one of the best cubicles on the floor - one of the few where you can sit facing the traffic flow instead of always having your back to part of it - but also because I won't get to sit next to EwokGirl anymore. She's moving to the other side of the building, and I'm moving just one row over next to this old man who is quite a good guy but who probably won't appreciate my running commentary on the idiots of the world.

I'll also have to cut way back on my complaining about how much Lotus Notes sucks. Not because it doesn't suck, but because the language that I typically use to describe how much it sucks, and what it sucks, well that language is really not suitable for my new high-traffic location.

People that I hate:

1. Whores

2. Fuckheads

3. Sluts

4. Whores again

This list is not all-inclusive.

I feel kinda dumb.

I didn't read the company name on the box. What I thought was perhaps a charity with a stupid name turned out to be a parody of those "inspirational" posters that you sometimes see at work. If your job sucks, at least.

Oh, well. Live and learn I guess.

A few people did ask me what was in the box though. I answered that I had no idea. It wasn't addressed to anyone I know. I suggested that the cure for hope might be different for everyone.

A terrible diagnosis, a failed final exam, a guilty verdict, a rejected marriage proposal. Hope can be cured in so many ways - it's a wonder that it ever exists at all.

And some things, some things can remove all hope from one person yet breathe new life into another's.

Such as the situation I'm currently facing.

I don't know for sure if there's anyone that's happy about this. I think that, for now at least, I'm better off not knowing. But conventional wisdom would indicate that this is a happy event. Perhaps even a joyous one.

But not for me. For me, it's a cure for hope.

I know what's in my box. What's in yours? What would it take to cure your hope?

This was spotted with the rest of our incoming mail at work today.