One of two things has just happened. Either I've been threatened, or I've been given the most obvious and unnecessary advice ever.

The wording of the message I received is a little ambiguous as to which is the actual case.

The basic gist of the message was Be careful.

I don?t know if the or else was intentionally implied or not.

This little mystery that I've been perplexing over since yesterday certainly seems to have taken an interesting turn.

My question to you, oh anonymous Internet comrade and/or foe, is this: What was the damn e-mail about?

You obviously know me (you used the secret word) yet you don't seem to know me that well - for you're making the same basic assumptions that everyone else that doesn't know me that well has been making.

I've managed to be in a good mood for two days straight and so I'm going to end this a little abruptly.

Feel free to send another message via my form thingy or *gasp* an actual e-mail. Call if you know the number. I welcome discussion on this - it's cheaper than therapy and I just might learn something.

The other night I was asked some questions.

Scratch that, I was asked the most relevant questions in the world.

The questions that I've asked myself a thousand times. The questions that I've always answered the same way.

Because I'm an idiot.

I don't know.

The other night was different because I wasn't the one doing the asking. I also knew that my standard answers just wouldn't suffice.

So I countered the first question with one of my own.

And just what good would that do?

I got no real response to this, just as I'd hoped. Even if the answer is known, I felt that it was pretty unlikely that it would be shared with me at that moment.

In response to the second question I lied.

I'm really not sure. I've been trying to figure that out myself.

The fact is that the second question has an answer now. Not the answer I wanted, or at least not the answer I thought I wanted, but there it is anyway.

Now I have another question begging to be answered. A question so important that, despite my most aggressive efforts to avoid it, it has managed to claw its way to the front of my mind and entwine itself into nearly every thought I have.

What am I going to do about it?

Today I mowed my lawn for what I hope was the last time this season.

What a stupid tradition. You cover your yard with plants that only look good when they're cut short and yet they grow so fast that they have to be cut every week or two.

Don't even get me started on this whole raking leaves nonsense.

A hundred thousand years ago I'd probably just club someone over the head and drag her back to my cave. Decisive, but unfulfilling.

In 2004 I sit here writing stupid entries and hope that my mind will eventually conjure up a scenario in which I don't end up alone. Ineffective and self-defeating.

And they call this progress.

schiz-o-phren-ic
adj.
1. Of, relating to, or characterized by the coexistence of disparate or antagonistic elements.

con-trast
n.
1. A difference, especially a strong dissimilarity, between entities or objects compared.

I've been sitting here, my hands poised over my keyboard, for an hour now. I've managed to copy/paste two dictionary definitions, and write two sentences.

I suppose I'll just try to mow through this block.

This makes four sentences.

Saturday night, Rich O's was pretty dead. When I first arrived there were some people in the red room that I didn't know, ProbableLesbian and CluelessSuitor were in the living room area, and that was it.

I ordered an NABC Tunnel Vision and joined the couple in the living room area. They left shortly afterward, but I've got enough to be paranoid about so I didn't take it personally.

The entire night was tame and relaxing. CoffeeDude came in, followed a short time later by TrainGirl, RealTrainGirl, and GreenBeerDude.

I tried one of the green beers (don't know what the hell it was called) and didn't care for it. I ordered a Stone Smoked Porter.

CoffeeDude and TrainGirl and I got to talking about dreams and lucidity in dreams. TrainGirl seems to have much better control than I do - she can even choose to replay certain scenes if they don't turn out the way she wants.

Anyway, like I said, a pretty boring night. After my Stone I had another Tunnel Vision, and I went home at around 11:30.

I didn't really have a reason, but I started the night expecting something unusual to happen. I don't know what I expected. Perhaps LaptopGirl would call. Perhaps my sister would visit, or my friend Eric. Just something unusual or interesting to go along with the unusual and interesting phenomenon of my good mood.

Nothing at all happened.

I'll now end this entry in a awkward way.

Let it be known and recorded that on October 30th, 2004, I spent the entire day in a good mood.

Clinging to optimism may be difficult but it's pretty cool when it works.

This is a fairly small chance that the idea that popped into my head this morning is actually true. I don't think it's the least likely explanation, but it's certainly not the most likely.

What makes this possibility so intriguing to me is that, in this scenario, everything is not my fault. Some things certainly are, but not everything.

Of course I can't discuss this theory with anyone because they'd be sure to point out all kinds of blaring inconsistencies that I've managed to overlook in my sleep-deprived state.

an-noy-ing
adj.
1. Causing vexation or irritation; troublesome.

mo-ron
n.
1. A person regarded as very stupid.

loud-mouth
n.
1. One given to loud, irritating, or indiscreet talk.

I got to the bar a little before 9:00. The place was extremely crowded, but I was able to grab the only seat at the bar next to a group of Rich O's professional beer drinkers.

Oh yeah, before I sat down I grabbed the latest postcard from LaptopGirl and read it so I could get that task over with. Of course I got sad, and that pretty much set the tone for the next couple of hours.

I had a Mad Bitch and listened to the PBDs play a game of Trivial Pursuit while I checked every ten seconds to see if a spot anywhere else had opened up. The Mad Bitch tasted a little off to me - there was kind of a rotten flavor that I couldn't quite identify. My next beer was an NABC Tunnel Vision that tasted very good.

At one point, shortly after UnbearablyAnnoyingDude started arguing that opossums are not mammals, I had what I thought was the brilliant idea of leaving the bar area and sitting in the dining area. Anything to get away from the throng.

CoffeeDude had appeared and he ended up joining me at a table. I hadn't seen him since LaptopGirl's departure and I felt compelled to spew my guts out. I keep saying that I don't want to talk about it, but once I get started I can't seem to shut up.

CoffeeDude recommended a Bell's Best Brown Ale so I had one of those. Here's my ratebeer.com rating:

(draft) Not too bad, but not all that great either. There was nothing that really stood out at all. Just a decent fairly generic brown ale. I like Newcastle better.

LaptopGirl called for her Rich O's report and her horoscope reading. There seemed to be some kind of interference with the call and it was quite difficult to understand what she was saying. One thing I was able to pick up was that the original plan of LaptopGirl visiting me in Las Vegas next month has been replaced with my driving to visit her instead. To be perfectly honest, both plans scare me, and I told LaptopGirl as much. I'll just have to see what kind of a mood I'm in when the time comes. Perhaps we can just arrange to wave at each other from opposite rims of the Grand Canyon.

After what seemed like an eternity Rich O's proper finally cleared out enough that CoffeeDude and I were able to grab some seats in the living room area. We were joined by ExBartender. I didn't stay too long after that because it seemed that I'd miscalculated my alcohol intake. Got home around 1:00 and watched The Blair Witch Project.

The five most stupid reasons for voting for Kerry:

5. Because he was in Vietnam.

4. Because his initials are JFK.

3. Because the Red Sox won the world series.

2. Because of something he said.

And finally,

1. Because "Anybody but Bush!"

The five most stupid reasons for voting for Bush:

5. Because he can catch a football.

4. Because Clinton got a blow job.

3. Because the Red Sox beat the Yankees.

2. Because if Bush wins then Hillary runs in 2008.

And finally,

1. Because Kerry "looks French."

Halloween is in a couple of days, so I thought I'd write about the only "true" story of the supernatural that I've ever been a direct witness to.

My grandmother died on September 27, 1998 in a nursing home. Before she went to the home she'd lived in a relative's home for about a year. Before that, she'd been in the same house for nearly 60 years. That's the house I'm talking about here.

I grew up about 100 yards from MaMaw's house, and I spent a very large part of my childhood in it. With my parents working all the time my sisters and I spent nearly as much time in that old house as we did in our own. All of my cousins would come over to play pretty often. We had Christmas lunch there. From the time I was about 10 until I was 18 I spent at least two nights every week in that house.

No matter how much time I spent there, the house still scared the shit out of me sometimes.

It's just a creepy house. The upstairs in particular - many of the rooms have crudely-nailed panels blocking access to or from the attic. As a kid I was always afraid of those areas and would usually sneak past them while watching carefully for an arm, or a tentacle, or whatever I was most afraid of during that particular time in my life.

But enough background. I was a kid. It was an old house. It scared me.

A couple of days after my grandmother died my cousin Jeff and I went up to the old house to look around. Though nobody had lived there for over a year, there was still electricity and water since my uncle had been using it for storage.

This was the first time I'd been in the house since MaMaw had died, and it was the first time Jeff had been there in at least a few years.

So we went into the house and were immediately stunned by how warm it was. It must have been over a hundred degrees there. The furnace was going full-blast and the registers were almost too hot to touch.

I went to the thermostat against the kitchen wall and, sure enough, it was set at the absolute maximum. I turned it back down to about 50 or so and Jeff and I continued our explorations.

The next day I mentioned to another cousin (one who's father was using the old place for storage) that I'd lowered the thermostat.

He got a quizzical look on his face, and told me that there was no way that the furnace could have been going, that there was no way that the house could have been that warm.

You see, when my grandmother had moved out of the house, over a year earlier, they'd removed the propane tank.

I confirmed this rather alarming fact myself. The house had no gas supply. The furnace had no fuel. The pilot light was long dead.

So that's the story of the weirdest thing I've ever experienced. If I was better at writing about scary stuff I bet you'd be shitting your pants right about now.

I'm just sitting here giving my TiVo time to record Survivor so I can skip all of the commercials. I've got about five more minutes.

Back in 1994 or 1995 I ran out of gas on the way home from pool league. I let my car coast into a driveway - pretty much the only wide spot on that rural King County WA road - and since I was only about a mile from home I just walked.

The next morning I had my roommate drive me to get some gas then drop me off at my car.

What I found at my car was both funny and scary at the same time.

These people had cows. A lot of cows. They also had no fence - just some metal tubes crossing their driveway that the cows couldn't cross without twisting their ankles or whatever.

Do cows even have ankles?

Anyway, I guess my car being parked there must have been just about the most exciting these cows had seen in years.

There must have been three dozen of them, mostly standing but some laying, completely surrounding my car and mooing up a storm.

The cows' excitement at having a car in their midst was trumped only by the presence of an actual human being (my lovely self) and those things crowded around me like photographers around a celebrity. Their moos increased their tempo and volume. I was a rock star to those cows.

Once I'd gassed up my car I pulled out of the driveway. I actually had to nudge cows out of the way with my car.

I felt really bad seeing them as they watched me drive away.

I like to imagine that they made a legend out of my visit, and that they pass the story down from generation to generation.

Moo, my old friends, moo.