I'm sort of kicking myself a little today.

Someone asked me when my flight out of Louisville was on Friday morning, and I had no idea, so I checked.

It's at 6:30. In the morning.

I don't know why I keep scheduling my Las Vegas flights for so damn early. I get to Las Vegas at 10:30 and I know that I'm not going to get a room until at least 2:00 in the afternoon. It would make much more sense to arrive in the afternoon so I wouldn't have to sit around with my thumb up my ass for hours.

Plus, if I left Louisville at a reasonable hour, I could even go out to Rich O's Thursday night.

I remembered all this in May, when I last went to Vegas. But this time I forgot, and in my excitement I booked the earliest flights possible.

The latest theories about the Moon's origins say that it was torn from the Earth long ago. If that's true, then the Moon must feel as I do. Forever orbiting. Forever contemplating what it has lost. Never able to look away. Never able to touch.

Does the Moon remember the pain of being ripped away?

If the Moon could somehow break free of the Earth's pull, it would truly become lost. Its own inertia would carry it forever, dark and silent, through the vastness of space.

I wonder, would the Earth look up, and wonder where the Moon had gone? Would it wonder why the Moon had left? Would the Earth even notice?

I actually had a pretty decent night. There was no surprisaphobia for the first time in quite a while. It would have been the perfect time for a surprise, but it didn't happen. So yay!

Let's see, I stopped and saw VigilanteGirl first. She's stopped being grouchy long enough to remind me to pick her up a shirt from "anywhere in Las Vegas" while I'm there. The girl is simply beyond cute. My intentions toward her are not entirely honorable, so buying her Hard Rock shirts and shit helps ease my guilt a little.

When I walked into Rich O's, SpikeBoy was sitting out in the loser area with some girl. I didn't recognize him with a girl.

Compared to Friday night, the place was dead. This Russian dude with a fucked up website was playing in the front area, with a half-dozen or so people listening.

Walking into Rich O's proper, I immediately saw HatGirl. Without the hat again. My peripheral vision seemed to detect that there were several cute girls scattered around, but, of course, none of them mattered, not with HatGirl in the room.

So I sat on the loveseat and ordered a Spezial (900) and talked with HatGirl and LuckyFucker for pretty much the entire night. After a while DooRagGirl came in. She also failed to distract me.

LuckyFucker was asking me for advice on what beers to try. I think that so far he's liked my recommendations, except maybe the Rogue Imperial Stout - that one may have been a bit too much for someone that's only been to Rich O's like three times.

My second beer was another Spezial (920). When this beer goes on tap I usually drink a lot of it, but after a week or two it gets a little boring.

My third beer was a Guinness (974) and then I switched to Diet Coke.

Oh yeah, I was asking DooRagGirl if she knows GlassesGirl, since they both know my sister Neisha from school. DooRagGirl wasn't sure if she knew her or not. Right after I asked, GlassesGirl walked in. She seems to be dating MusicalHippyDude.

By the end of the night, I'd started feeling a little bad that I chose LuckyFucker as a nickname for HatGirl's boyfriend. He's a nice guy. He actually reminds me of my sister's ex-husband, who used to be one of my best friends. But, he is a lucky fucker so the nickname will stay.

Anyway, once HatGirl and her boyfriend left I sat for a bit with DooRagGirl, just to foster the illusion that I hadn't stayed for as long as I did for the obvious reason, then I went to White Castle and came home.

Whew!

I made it though the last three nights, and this fuckwad of a month is effectively over for me. Tonight I'll get to enjoy a relatively stress-free Saturday.

It'll probably be boring.

Anyway, last night I got to Rich O's at around 8:30. The parking lot was only about half full, plus there were about 20 people all leaving at the same time. It looked like they were having a fire drill or something. So it was strange to walk inside and see that the place was completely packed. Not a place to sit anywhere.

I waved at SpikeBoy, who was looking quite miserable on the throne surrounded by weirdoes, and went and stood at the end of the bar. I had myself a Spezial (880) and talked with GlassesGirl for a few minutes, then LibertyGirl, and then RealTrainGirl came in so we moved four feet and stood in the annex for a while.

After a bit, MisunderstoodGirl came in, and actually talked to us. No, really. She was in a talkative mood. That was quite a nice surprise.

Finally, some idiots left the island. About fifty people scrambled for the seats, but only six people succeeded. My friends and I were three of them, the others were some PBDs that I don't know.

So we spent the rest of the night just drinking and talking. My second beer was a Rogue Imperial Stout (36), available on tap. Yummy, but deadly.

My last beer was something new for me:

Schneider Aventinus Weizen Doppelbock (20)

(draft) Good, but not as good as everyone else seems to think. Nothing noteworthy at all. I'd describe some details but there really aren't any. It's just a beer.

When my voice becomes weak and raspy, is it because I've gone hoarse from screaming, or is it because I no longer have the strength to shout?

I can still whisper my thoughts, but there's nobody close enough to hear.

The thing about jigsaw puzzles is this: it can be the most beautiful puzzle ever made, but if there's a piece missing it's nothing more than a pile of cardboard, capable of bringing nothing but disappointment.