I guess I've given up on sleep for the night.

I developed a bit of a fever this evening. I hope I didn't catch it (or give it to) my grandmother while I was at her house setting up this 1960s technology medical alarm doohickey.

So anyway, I got this fever, and I laid down at about 7:00. For the night, I thought.

Wrong.

I woke up a little while ago and, though I'm still feverish, sleep is beyond me.

What woke me up was dreaming about this one part of this one night last Summer. One night a week before the first part of this entry happened.

That night, my dear readers, was what you call a golden opportunity.

A golden opportunity to be like every other guy on the planet. A golden opportunity to jump in, dick first, without a care in the world for what would happen later.

After all, what could be better? She'd just broken up with her boyfriend in front of my eyes. We'd both been drinking. There was nobody else around. I had, for a while at least, her undivided attention. We even hugged each other goodnight, first time that had happened. It wouldn't have taken much to press things further. To see where they might lead.

Yep, a golden opportunity. A wasted one.

I did nothing.

For you see, I'm not the type of guy that's going to make a move on someone that's been single for less than two hours. I'm not the type of guy that's going to hit on a girl that's been drinking heavily. And I'm most definitely not the type of guy that's going to try anything with a friend of mine unless I know damn well that's what she's wanting me to do.

I hardly ever think about that night. I have plenty of other moments, much more dramatic, seemingly much more pivotal, to occupy my mind. I don't think I've really thought about that particular night in months. But I'm thinking about it right now, and I'm thinking, once again, that I'm a dumbass.

Everything hinged on that night, on those two seconds when we pulled away from our brief embrace. Nothing that's happened since then would have been the same, if only I'd been like every other guy on the planet. If I'd just leaned back in. Put my hand aside her face. Pulled her to me. Tasted her lips. Things may not have turned out well - they probably wouldn't have - but I'd fucking know. I'd know and I wouldn't still be guessing a year later.

Every once in a while, something happens, or doesn't happen. Something that's important. A brief period that doesn't seem like much at the time but turns out to be one of the most important moments in a person's life.

I could have tried, failed, and then moved on.

I could have tried, and succeeded, only to have things fall apart later, and then moved on.

I could have tried, and succeeded, and been deliriously happy for the rest of my life.

These were some of the the paths that lay in front of me on that night last Summer. I chose instead to do nothing. To just stand there. A part of me is still standing there I suppose. Wondering.

Went and ate a very good steak dinner with MixedSignalGirl last night. I know, this was probably a bad idea. I think she figured that out as well because she bailed after we'd eaten and I'd assured her that nothing I've been writing about lately (the bullshit last week) had anything to do with her.

To drink with dinner I had myself a Guinness (736). For some reason the Guinnii at Tucker's taste better than the ones at Rich O's. I think it has something to do with the temperature, but I'm not really sure.

So next I went over to Rich O's. The parking lot was jammed but I guess everyone must have been on the Sportstime side because Rich O's itself was only about 1/3 full. I sat on the sofa with the beautiful HatGirl and ordered my first beer.

Rogue Chipotle Ale (22)

(bottle) Very faint peppery aroma, with a little smoke thrown in. Not much taste until the finish, then a little pepper heat. I was expecting more pepper, so I was expecting to dislike this more than I did.

I was really having a hard time keeping from jumping into HatGirl's eyes and swimming around, but after a while this dude showed up and sat with us and HatGirl left pretty much immediately. Just a coincidence I'm sure. Not.

OldBob joined us then and we both tried this Jenlain beer.

Jenlain Farmhouse Ale (10)

(draft) Orange. Some faint apple flavor, but even more apricots. A little too sweet and citrusy for my tastes.

The rest of the night was pretty dull. The place was even more of a sausage festival than it normally is, thanks I suppose to WomanRepellant, who sat and talked with me about this one fucker that we both hate.

Got home a little after 11:00 and finished watching Last of the Mohicans.

I want to write something, but I think I should wait a little while. I should wait until this nagging little something rattling around in my head slows down enough for me to recognize it for what it is. Anything I write now will be just a guess.

But I want to write something, so I'm going to, dammit.

The other night, after the fucked up shit happened, I reacted pretty much as I expected. I then laid awake all night, all tensed up, waiting for it to happen again. Hoping it would happen again, at least on some layer. I mean, on a conscious level I wanted it to stop, but some small part of me was actually excited over the prospect.

I'm not completely sure which part of me that was.

Was it a part of me that stands over whatever small spark of hope for the future I still harbor? Perhaps it was a part of me that still clings to the idea that this can all be fixed somehow, that given the proper opportunity, I can still make everything okay. Maybe even better than okay. Maybe even great.

Any of these things would be understandable, certainly. Even expected, as long as you're looking at me from the outside. Through this 'blog perhaps.

From in here though, from here inside my head, I know that it was none of those things. Those parts of me are gone. Perhaps comatose, perhaps dead. Maybe they've just gone off to Tahiti and are getting plastered with Koko. I dunno, but wherever they are, they're not in my head now, and they weren't in my head the other night either.

So what was it? What was it that dared to hope for the bullshit to continue while the rest of me screamed for it to end?

Perhaps, and I hope that this is correct, there's just a part of me that's become so bored with drifting about that it'll welcome any stimulation whatsoever. That would at least make some sense, right? I can deal with that, if that's all it is.

But I don't think so.

I think, I'm afraid, I really hope I'm wrong, but maybe that small part of me hoped for another chance to...

I'm having a hard time thinking of words here.

The other night I didn't react in the most mature manner. I reflexively did what I felt needed to be done, but I don't think I did it for the right reasons. I did it for me, to ease my own discomfort.

Since when did I become important? I'm not the victim here, and I never have been.

By reacting the way I did, I put myself first. I gave no thought to what effect it might have on anyone else. I saw a hand timidly reaching out to me, and I slapped it away.

This bothers me a lot, that I'm capable of doing this. What bothers me even more is the possibility that the small part of me, the one that hoped for more bullshit the other night, that this part of me wanted to cause more pain. To be in control of the situation. To dish it out for once.

To get a little bit of revenge.

I've known for a long time that I'd come out of all this as a different person. I hope the person I become is not this shallow self-centered prick I fear is sitting inside me now. Waiting, hoping even, for a chance to lash out...

Man, even thinking about this is upsetting me. I don't want to be this person. I hope I'm not this person.

I really should have waited a while before I wrote this entry.

Last night I went to the Cumberland Brewpub in Louisville and met up with RealTrainGirl and GreenBeerDude.

This was my first time going to this place, despite (a)It being a brewpub and (b)It being only about 30 minutes from my house. The first thing about the place is that it's very hard to find a parking place. Luckily it wasn't raining. The second thing about the place is that there were a lot of pretty girls there.

These aren't particularly good or even interesting pictures, but they're all I've got:

I arrived before my friends and ordered some food and my first beer. I ended up drinking two of these:

Cumberland Nitro Porter (40)

(draft) Took a long time to pour, but worth the wait. Very smooth. Nice chocolate aroma and flavor that reminded me of Young's Double Chocolate Stout. This is a very good beer. Yummy.

After a while we went to the upstairs (which I didn't even know existed) and I had a small glass of the only other beer that seemed interesting to me.

Cumberland Nut Brown Ale (10)

(draft) Another winner from this small brewpub. Quite malty and nutty, but enough hops to keep it nicely balanced.

Then we all went to Rich O's. I'd been wanting to try this Rogue beer, but by the time I got there I decided that it was too late to be cranking open a 22-oz. bottle, so I just asked the bartender to set one aside for me to drink Saturday night. I just had some Diet Cokes.

We sat around at the island. NotGeorge joined us and then, lo and behold, MisunderstoodGirl came in! Very cool to see her after what seemed like forever. RealTrainGirl gave me shit for not talking up a storm, but really I was just basking in the glory that is MisunderstoodGirl. Words were unnecessary.

After the girls (ha ha again) left NotGeorge and I talked for a while, then I came home and shot some pool until the Sun came up.

Ask me a question, and I'll try to answer it.

I need some ideas for an entry.

I'm still quite wiped out. I don't understand how I can still be so tired.

So after work I went to Rich O's to meet up with RealTrainGirl. I needed to tell her what happened Tuesday night, plus it's always good to see her.

To drink, I had a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier Dunkel (91) and then a Guinness (712).

RealTainGirl and I plan to go to the Cumberland Brewpub Friday night. I hate plans, but I've really been needing something to do besides visiting the ghost at Rich O's every weekend.

Oh yeah, I was also supposed to take a look at VigilanteGirl's computer tonight, but I've been stood up. For something she asked me to do. Women. Typical. Hmmph.

So now it's not even 8:30 and I'm going to try to get some sleep. Maybe I'll actually catch up and not be exhausted all day tomorrow.

This will finish up my Boston Monday story, started here and continued here.

When I first went into Boston Beer Works and ordered my first beers, I grabbed a seat at the bar next to this chick. Didn't really pay too much attention to her when I sat down, because that would have been rude. I just made sure that the seat wasn't taken already, then sat down.

Well the damn beers came with fruit in them and I just had to make sarcastic comments to somebody, so I chose the girl next to me. We got to talking about various crap like where we're from and what we're doing in Boston. My story is boring: I'm from Southern Indiana and I'm in Boston for work. Her story is fascinating: She's from England and she's in Boston because she's traveling the world.

Not since MaineGirl have I ever met anyone that was so friendly and outgoing and charming with a complete stranger. EnglishGirl and I spent the entire night talking, mostly about her adventure.

She's traveling the world alone, staying in youth hostels, and having the adventure of a lifetime. She has a twin sister who, if she can get over her fear of flying, will be meeting her soon in Washington DC. She's seen nobody in her family for four months. So far she's been to (if I recall correctly) New Zealand, Australia, Los Angeles, and Boston.

The girl was just nice and friendly and endearing- everything that someone her age (23) is not supposed to be, especially toward a complete stranger 17 years older than her. She was also (surprise!) a cute brunette with glasses.

One of the guys I was traveling with asked me the next day if anything had happened between me and EnglishGirl. I told him that nothing had, and it was the truth. I've stated here before that I'm not a one-night-stand type of guy, and I couldn't very well say something like that and then proceed to have two of them in less than 3 months. I don't know if it was even possible. What I do know is that, at a fairly late point in the evening, I became concerned that it could be possible. I also became concerned that, if anything were to happen, EnglishGirl would start to think that I'd just been talking to her all night so I could get into her pants.

The thought of this, of her lumping me into the same category as every other fucking guy on the planet, didn't appeal to me at all, so I actually disappeared right when the bar kicked us out. Just grabbed a cab and left.

Now I've been kicking myself ever since.

Not because I should have tried to get into her pants. Not that at all. I'm kicking myself because I should have at least given her my e-mail address. I became very wrapped up in her story. I'm really excited that she'll get to see her sister again soon. I want to, maybe not keep in touch with this girl, but at least have the chance to let her know how fun my evening was because of her.

So I'd wanted to return to the Beer Works on Tuesday, but I was just too damn tired. I didn't get a chance to tell her what I wanted to. I don't know her last name, and she doesn't know mine. I figure I'll never see or hear from her again, and I think that really sucks.

I have a few readers (that I know of) in England. I know that even though it's a fairly small country, you don't all know each other. But I do think that there's at least a small chance that somebody out there knows this girl.

If she sounds familiar to you at all, please use the Say Something Dammit form to let me know. Tell me her first name and that should confirm it. I also know her sister's name. If you know her, and can give her my e-mail address, I will owe you about a zillion beers if we should ever meet.

I just don't like the way I tore out of there, and I'd like another chance to properly thank her for such a wonderful evening.

Well, I'm not finished with Monday yet, but I'm going to go ahead and quickly cover Tuesday now. The rest of my Monday entry deserves more attention than I'm able to give right now.

Tuesday was fucked up.

Because I hadn't got back to the hotel until after 2:00, and because I hadn't got to sleep until 4:00, I was pretty wiped out all day long.

Once our meetings were over with, I walked down to The Hard Rock to eat some dinner and pick up shirts for me and VigilanteGirl. I had a pint of Guinness (692) in a souvenir glass.

I'd kindof halfway planned to take a cab back to The Beer Works and hopefully run into EnglishGirl again, but I was just too damn tired, so I just went back to the hotel and went to sleep.

Until a little after midnight when some fucked up shit happened.

I've decided that I'm not going to get into any detail about what happened and about what my response was. I'll just say that I didn't get to sleep again that night.

I'd really have liked to have been able to spend more time in Boston. I just know that there is some great beer there that I just didn't get a chance to try. There's also all this historical shit that I'm kicking myself for not visiting. Boston is definitely on my short list for a weekend getaway.

So anyway, I've had about 6 hours of sleep since Monday morning, and I'm just wiped out.

And, yippee! I get to go to work in the morning.

At some point I will finish up my Monday night story. Just not tonight.

Okay, as I mentioned, I left the game early to check out this Boston Beer Works place.

I was very much aware that there were 50,000 people across the street watching the game and I figured that a large number of them would be coming in soon to do some drinking (and distract the bartenders from getting me more beer), so I ordered two beers right off the bat:

Beer Works Bunker Hill Bluebeery Ale (5)

(draft) This might have been sweet and syrupy or it might have been all the blueberries floating up and down. I couldn't finish the glass. Those things hitting my lips were just too strange.

Seriously, those blueberries were just too much! I ended up leaving the glass sitting in front of me for the entire night. The blueberries would rise and fall constantly. It was like a little lava lamp or something. As far as the beer went, I just never got a good enough taste of it to really form an opinion.

Beer Works Watermelon Ale (12)

(draft) A light brown ale (think Newcastle) with a wedge of watermelon in it. Once I removed the offending fruit I couldn't detect anything noteworthy. Maybe a bit of a hoppy finish.

This beer wasn't too bad, but without the fruit wedge there wasn't really any watermelon taste to it.

So by this point I'd found myself in a conversation with a cute girl from England. She's going to get her very own entry in this 'blog, but for now, she was very cool and we spent the entire night talking until they closed the bar and kicked us out.

Beer Works Beantown Nut Brown Ale (12)

(draft) A nice malty brown ale. Very pretty lacing. There was a bit of a coffee overtone that I could have done without. Quite good though.

Before I ordered this I asked the bartender if there were going to be any surprises. She didn't get what I meant. It was good enough that I'd have had another one if there weren't any other beers that I wanted to try.

Beer Works Haymarket Hefeweizen (12)

(draft) A very cloudy yellow beer. Strong banana aroma. Came with a citrus wedge that I seem to have removed before it ruined the flavor. Quite yummy.

Another fucking piece of fruit! Don't these people know anything? Anyway, with the fruit gone, this was my favorite beer of the night. EnglishGirl tried some too, breaking away from her fairly constant stream of Boston Common beer. She claimed to like it but didn't quite finish it before ordering another Common.

The guys I'd been traveling with came in at about this point and, thankfully, didn't mess with me and my new friend. I'm sure they considered it though. If they had, I may have lost it because by this time I was quite fascinated with EnglishGirl. This was probably fairly apparent to them, and I appreciate their restraint.

Beer Works Buckeye Oatmeal Stout (12)

(draft) Pretty good. A slight coffee taste. A slightly bitter finish. More roasted malt flavor than I'm used to in this style, and I think that's what saved it for me.

By the end of this glass I really liked this beer.

The place had another dozen or so drafts listed, but there were none that looked appealing to me, so I just had another glass of the hefeweizen (24). By this time I was also amazed at all of the alcohol I was putting away. I guess the twelve oz. glasses made it seem like more than it really was.

As I said before, EnglishGirl and I ended up staying until they kicked us out...