I've mentioned before that my neighbor across the street has a dumb dog named Dino.

Another neighbor has a younger, more annoying Black Lab named Molson.

I don't have any dogs myself. These two, plus a three-legged dog named Ice (Get it, Molson Ice) are the next best thing. I can't set foot outside my house without one or more of them running up to play fetch or something. Plus, Molson always brings me free dog shit.

So tonight, about twenty minutes ago, my doorbell rang.

I can see out my door from the couch where I was sitting. I looked out and saw a young brunette wearing glasses.

After I finished having my heart attack, I took a closer look.

Not her. Just some other brunette wearing glasses. An imposter.

Probably a Jehovah's Witness or something, I figure, so I grudgingly get up.

It's more of a girl than a woman, really. She's crying. She asked me if I had a dog.

I told her that I didn't, but that I knew most of the dogs in the area.

She told me that she'd just ran over a Black Lab.

Mother fucking shit!

As I walked with the girl over to the other side of the road, she tried to describe the dog, but all Black Labs look alike. Especially at night when you don't know them.

I asked her if the dog was dead, and she said she thought it was, because it had stopped screaming.

Her boyfriend had taken off to canvas some other houses.

I went to see the dog. To see which of my friends it was. To see if my friend was dead.

My first thought, upon getting close to the dog, was that I didn't know it. None of the Black Labs I know have white paws. I will admit to breathing a sigh of relief at that point.

I checked its neck for any sign of a pulse, and I put my hand on its chest and felt for a heartbeat. There was nothing. It was dead.

This dog obviously belonged to somebody - it was very well-fed. But it didn't have a collar. A neighbor lady that was driving by said that she'd never seen the dog before either.

So it's a mystery I guess. One that probably won't be solved until somebody puts up a flyer at Gas N Stuff about their missing dog. Then somebody will have to call the number that's written on it and break the news.

Breaking that news will suck, but not as much as it will suck for the person on the other end of the phone.

And so began my Saturday night.

The rest of the night comes to you courtesy of my little notebook.

8:04
Rich O's is fucking crowded again. There's nobody here worth talking to. I'm outta here.

8:25
Buckhead's is out of Upland Chocolate Stout. It feels weird here without MixedSignalGirl. I'm outta here.

9:00
The Pub has Young's Double Chocolate Stout. Yay! I get one (275)! Yummy!

9:14
Fuck.

9:20
In here I'm the stranger. I wonder if the regulars hate me. I wonder if there are any regulars here.

9:22
This place is strange. Maybe I'll just have two.

9:30
This one chick is smoking a clove cigarette. It smells good.

9:31
The waitresses here are fucking hot.

9:39

9:44
Fuck.

9:45
I order another Young's.

9:51
I get my beer (295). Finally.

9:55
Fuckity fucking fuck fuck.

9:57
I will not claim that the grapes were sour. The grapes were sweet and delicious.

10:00
Piss time.

10:07
Oh boy! The marines have landed.

10:11
I should have worn my Red Sox cap. Then I could have pretended that I was a tourist.

10:12
In a few minutes, I'll have a decision to make.

10:15

10:19
Decision made. I'm outta here.

10:41
I arrive at Rich O's and take a piss.

10:42
I say hi to BamaCouple.

10:43
It's still fucking crowded in here!

10:45
I order a Piraat (135) and I sit in the red room.

10:48
There's a dipshit at the bar that I don't like, but I can't remember the reason. He's got a hot girl with him - maybe that's why.

10:51
Hey! That Russian chick with the cool hair is sitting at the other table. She talking to some dipshit.

10:53
RussianChick is drunk.

10:54
This one chick - the wife of one of the PBDs - is about a gazillionth as pretty as she thinks she is.

10:56
Fuck! I need to snap out of this mood I'm in.

10:58
Nice tits and a decent ass do not make up for having the face of a horse. Not with the lights on, anyway.

11:01
Girls with foreign accents are hot.

11:06
I'm moving to the bar. I don't know why.

11:15
My beer is gone. I'm outta here.

I've thought about this all day, and there's just no way I can make last night seem even remotely interesting.

So I'm going to stick with boring. It's what I do best after all.

The place was fucking crowded. I wanted to leave. I had myself a half a Guinness (1030) and planned to go someplace else, anyplace else where I could actually sit down and actually hear myself think. I was, in fact, on my way back to my truck to head over to Buckhead's but HatGirl text-messaged me and said that she was her way.

So I turned around and went back inside, to where the strangers and idiots had once again taken over.

I don't think I like this new Rich O's very much. This new Rich O's where all of the assholes that used to stay out front, out of my way, are now suddenly compelled by the new smoking policy to come into Rich O's proper.

It's just so fucking crowded.

One of the PBDs remarked that the crowd was certainly good for the owners, and I have to agree that this is true. For now. But what happens when all of the regulars get so sick and tired of standing around all night waiting for a place to sit that they stop bothering to come in at all? What happens when they decide that it's not even worth checking to see what the crowd is like? What happens when they just go somewhere else?

I don't know the answers, and I don't have any solutions. I am pretty sure, however, that doubling the size of the place, but reserving that new space for port tastings and other "special" functions, when it's asses to elbows every single fucking Friday night - well that just doesn't seem like the most brilliant thing I've ever heard of.

But it's none of my business. I'm just an innocent bystander, a victim.

But anyway, the whole night sucked. We did eventually get to move over to the living room area, but my mood was already shot. I sat on the throne and listened to everyone else yammer on and on about various topics. HatGirl and I traded some text messages back and forth because it just seemed easier even though she was sitting three feet away from me.

I had myself a Smithwick's (676). I was still drinking the lightweight stuff. I guess a part of me was still hoping that I'd get up the nerve to just leave and go somewhere else, and I wanted to keep my alcohol intake low enough to keep that possibility open.

I pussed out, and I lost all ambition to try to salvage a Friday night. I had most of a bottle of Stone Smoked Porter (154), and LuckyFucker had the rest. I was going to order a Weihenstephaner, but surprise! they were out. That's probably my fault. They're also out of Baltika 6. That's probably my fault too.

So I ordered a Fischer's Amber Ale, and only drank a little bit of it, then I went home.

What a waste of a night.

I am irritated by your lie.

You lie to yourself. You lie to him. You lie to me.

The truth sits somewhere between the depths of your lie and the pinnacle of your desire.

I am irritated by your lie.

But you, you should be livid.

You apologized for touching me, but it was unnecessary.

I felt the heat from your body, but it did not warm me.

These are good things, I think.

Timing is everything.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote that I'd never be in any of Ella's polls.

Now I've not only been in one, I came in third. Not too bad at all.

I'm still going to go out and drown my sorrows tonight, though.

Thanks to everyone who voted for me, whether because of pity, or extortion, or guilt, or whatever.

Right now, I don't know what to say to you.

Right now, I don't know how I feel about you.

Right now, I need you more than I ever have before.

How can I survive without loving you?

How can I remember to breathe, when for so long I only bothered to breathe because of you? Because someday you might come back into my life, and I lived for that chance?

You kept me alive, because you were my life.

And now, now I don't know what the fuck is going on. How can my thoughts of you be so easily pushed aside? What cruel twist of fate has dropped this, this harlot into my life to divert my attention and muddle my thoughts?

I know that I love you. I know that she is nothing compared to you. I know these things like I know that the sky is blue and the ocean is wet.

But she is here, and you are not.

But she is here, and you are not.

But she is here, and you are not.

Right now, I need you more than I ever have before, but you are not here.

You are not here, and I know that I should miss you.

But I don't. Not right now.

Take that chance. I'm worth it, and I've gone through a lot to be ready for it.